The Vial
by daenaira
Summary: The vial contains three things: a strand of hair, a small piece of cloth, and an eyelash. They are her tools to finding him, her Maker. And when his creation finally finds him she will have to choose. Will she kill or will she finally learn to love?
1. Chapter 1

**Rated M for violence, language, and maybe some sexual scenes. This will be an Angsty story. Just warning you.**

**Oh, and its supernatural.**

**Disclaimer: SM owns all recognizable characters and anything Twilight related.**

_Rule one: _

_Always leave some blood behind._

The girl walking down the street is dressed in all black. Black boots over black leggings adorned with an unnecessary black belt. Her black leather jacket hangs open, revealing a black, ribbed sweater and the only non-black item in her ensemble; a silver chain with a vial at the end of it.

She walks with her head down, her hair up and her hands in her pocket pulling the sides of her jacket in against the cold. Her breath crystallizes in the frigid air. Her feet carry her in a slow, rhythmic pace. Unusual compared to that of her fellow pedestrians, whose steps are hurried and scissor like. All but the dark girl seem eager to get somewhere warm. They pull their hats and scarves close, their mittens closer as they shiver. She does nothing. She keeps her pace.

After about five minutes of walking down the busy street, she turns down an empty alleyway and strolls through the sudden blast of ice laden wind. She hears laughter. Men, four of them, are giggling drunkenly at the end of the way. She continues on and she does not turn back, as any other well to do girl in Chicago would do at this time in this kind of location under these kinds of circumstances. Then again, she really isn't like any other girl.

She gets close to them, strolling past as if they were decorative bushes.

"Hey sugar, what's a pretty thing like you doing all alone back here?" One of the men slurs. He and his buddies eye the frozen girl, mistaking her stillness for fear.

"Walking down this alley all along, dressed like that is asking for me to come and give you a taste of a real man?" He giggles. The other three nod solemnly. Funny, intoxicated morons being solemn. She feels the urge to laugh at them. Like a farmer does at his cattle occasionally.

But she chooses not to.

Instead she stays completely still, breathing evenly as they circle her, their stumbling steps echoing off the damp stone walls surrounding their small group.

She breaths in through her nose, out through her mouth. In and out, concentrate. The men do not find her stillness and silence strange, are too wasted to worry about her calm. The alcohol sloshes through their systems, clouding their senses. They do not see her tense.

They do not see her fangs.

"C'mon sugar, what's your name?" She smiles and turns to the lead man. The one who had first spoken to her. The other three are on her west, east, and south. He is north. She always did love exacts, like directions and circles of even numbers. It makes what she is about to do seem less heathen and more of a ritual. And rituals are religious. They are practiced by those who hold belief in souls.

The man facing her is a young man, in his twenties. He is beyond drunk, any more alcohol and he'd be passed out on the floor. His mind is foggy, making him approach the girl. She is unnaturally pretty, he thinks. Then some chord of reason breaks through the mist of liquid poison, like a beam of light in a storm.

_Unnatural. She is unnatural._

He sees the red eyes, the pale skin. He sees how she does not shiver in the cold. Alcohol warms him; what warms her? He sees her smile. It is sharp like a blade. His heart starts to beat faster, his palms sweat and smolder. He can feel his eyes widen and his veins pump blood through his heart as if he were running. Her nostrils flare and her eyes close as she takes a deep breath, her head tips back.

His friends are still oblivious of what his body already knows. She is a predator.

She recognizes the fear in his eyes, the clarity in his heartbeat, the lusciousness of his fluttering pulse. The blood pools beneath his skin, beckoning her.

"My name is Bella. But you can call me Death." The other men are confused. Who would call themselves death? But the leader understands, realizes who she is and what he is to her. Finally he knows.

He is about to die.

And as his foot falls back as if to run from her she pounces. There is frenzy as the woman sinks her daggered teeth deep into his neck. She growls, the blood bubbling around her lips and trickling down his chin. His eyes are wide open, staring at his horrified comrades as they are shocked to grim awareness. They turn and run. He watches their retreating forms as his vision turns black.

The carcass lies on the alley floor. She drinks most of the blood, then slits the throat. There, it is as if he were mugged.

The liquid left paints the dirty ground in crimson.

She empties his pockets, finds his driver's license and sees his name. Patrick Morgan. She hangs her head, silent and solitary. It begins to snow.

White flakes fall upon the prone body and his pool of blood. The snow is pure, until it is stained by her filthy need; her forbidden desire.

She is now ten blocks away, her coat held close as if cold. Her eyes are a brilliant scarlet, bright as the flames but lacking their warmth or life. She stops beside a tree and tugs at the vial on her necklace. Inside are three items: a strand of hair, a small piece of fabric, and an eyelash. She opens it and sniffs.

It is his smell. It is his fault and her reminder. He is the reason behind it all. He made her what she is, a monster. _Him._

She knows the scent well, it is her reason for this half life. She sniffs again and then closes the vial again. Her tortured eyes turn to the angelic, unmarked snow and she wishes that she could cry. That she could feel something other than the pain and the guilt and the shame and the burn.

And then, for the thousandth time since she'd been thrown into this hell, she vows that she will find him.

And when she finds him, he too will call her Death.

* * *

**Thoughts? Intrigue?**

**If so, review. :)**


	2. Howl

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me_

_I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free_

_Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart_

_Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart_

_**Howl - Florence + The Machine**_

* * *

_**Rule number two:**_

_**Be aware of your surroundings.**_

She sits in the corner of the club. All alone and happy to be there. She watches the gyrating crowd with fascination, occasionally rubbing at her irritated eyes. Those men and women who approach her, like snakes to the charmer or moths to the light, see a beautiful young woman with light brown eyes.

She is beautiful. But the other three facts are completely false.

More than one person tries to approach her and ask for a dance. But each and every one turns back because of some seemingly inane fear. They walk towards her then freeze when they look into her big, brown, false eyes. Their blood runs cold before their pulse skyrockets. Something inside them tells them to run; something primal and instinctual. They listen to their bodies.

She sits and watches.

_It was never like this when I was alive._ She muses.

When she was alive; because she believes that, for all intents and purposes, she is dead. Her mission now is to track down one other Undead. Her Vampyre, whom she owes for all of her misery._ Him._

She tenderly caresses the vial around her neck and reminisces, the flashing lights in the club playing in front of her far away eyes.

_The year was 1921._

_She'd been outside in the garden, reading beneath the willow tree. The Chicago wind slipped playfully over the walls and tickled her cheek. She leaned into its embrace, turning her face towards the sunshine before returning to her read. It was a good book._

_Her mother was out to a dinner with her father. The servants were resting in the front. She'd come out to this peaceful place, her favorite haven, to give her nineteen year old self some downtime._

_Her cheeks flushed as she came upon a particular risqué scene, the man and woman were in the "throes of passion". She bit her bottom lip, imagining what it would be to have someone else's teeth in that particular spot._

"_What a beautiful blush you have." A velvety voice whispered, softer than the wind even. She jumped, dropping the book in her fright. It fell shut as her hand clasped her heart and her eyes raised to the speaker._

"_Oh." She exclaimed. A young man, about her age, was standing before her. A stranger, yes, but a beautiful stranger. He was unnaturally gorgeous, with messy bronze hair and strongly planed features. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a lithe muscular build. He stood with his hands in his pockets, the sunlight framing his flaming hair and flaming eyes. His eyes were red. How odd. He also seemed somewhat… sparkly._

_She shook her head. Maybe she was hallucinating._

_A cloud passed over the sun. She stood unsurely, only imagining what state she looked compared to this angelic form. He smiled at her as she straightened up. His teeth seemed particularly sharp. _

"_Did the servants let you in? Do I know you?" She asked. His smile tightened._

"_No and no. I climbed the wall." He said it casually, like he made a habit of hopping into private gardens and confronting lone maidens. She knew she should have been afraid. He'd just admitted that he did not know her and had trespassed on her property. Except she was strangely calm. After her initial fright, her pattering heartbeat had evened out. She was calmed by his beauty. Something so pretty could not hurt her._

_She was so naïve._

"_I'm Isabella Swan." She held out her hand to shake. He brought it to his lips and leaned over it, looking into her eyes as he softly and sensually kissed it._

_His lips and hand were icy cold. But her cheeks were a bright, warm red._

_She watched as his strange eyes darkened._

"_I'm Edward Masen." He stepped closer. She knew she should've felt nervous, he was inappropriately close. Her eyes were level with his chest, she looked up at him, unknowingly baring her neck. His eyes lit up as they took notice of the white expanse. _

_The sunlight returned._

_She gasped as his skin caught the rays like dewdrops upon the grass in the early morning. His skin seemed made of diamonds, and when he reached up to caress her cheek she found it was just as hard. He leaned down, her pulse beat a bit faster._

_But not from fear. _

_He tilted her head up even more and brought his icy lips to the skin of her neck, lightly brushing it. She shivered. She was so naïve. _

"_I am so sorry," he whispered so lightly against her skin that it could have been the wind. She was relaxed in his arms. She didn't even tense as his teeth sunk into her neck._

_The rest was pain._

_She awoke later in a forest. Her new senses scared and confused her. Her smell was heightened. As was her sight. She sniffed out a delicious tangerine scent and located three objects the human eye couldn't. A strand of hair, a small piece of cloth, and an eyelash. And she knew, somehow, that all three belonged to him. What she'd come to call her Vampyre._

_She got a vial, made a necklace, and placed the items inside. And after her first kill she vowed that she would find him and make him pay for making her a monster._

_For taking the blood of another._

She is pulled from her gruesome reverie by the accompanying ache in her chest. She feels it every time she thinks of him. It feels like her dead heart trying to feel again. It hurts. A lot.

She grits and grinds her teeth, the venom making them slippery. Her mouth nearly drips with want as she views the lives before her. All the bountiful, available, lovely blood. The humans smell so good. She can't resist.

But she must.

She pulls herself from the club, going at a faster than normal pace until she is out the doors and flying along. The wind whips through her hair, presses her skin tight mini dress to her rocky skin. She clutches the vial.

She approaches Lake Michigan. She quickly looks around for others before finding none. Consoled, she strips and dives into the water, swimming until she reaches the middle of the lake and then swims towards the bottom. She is a few hundred feet down, lying on a mushy ground. The fish avoid her, they too know she is a predator. The weight of the water is like a heavy blanket, oppressive but welcome and not unbearable. It is dark, even for her impeccable vision. She stares up at surface, so far away, and opens her mouth. She breathes in the water, lets it fill her lungs and throat until she too is an extension of the lake. It is painful, but it distracts her and soothes her aching throat.

She lies for hours, filling her body with blue instead of red.

Sometime around three in the morning she breaks the surface and swims to shore. She leans over and pukes the water back into the lake. It leaves her painfully, like the way it entered. She retches and grimaces at the returning burn in her throat. She dresses, hooks her shoes around her fingers and runs. It is time to leave her old home again, the memories there are too real.

_Seattle. We'll go to Seattle. That's far away, about as far as I want to go for now._

She breaks into a store and pulls on some comfortable clothes. She leaves the old ones behind. Her vial bounces against her chest as she dresses, clanging as if it were bouncing against metal. When she is done, she begins to run.

Her feet fly over the ground at unimaginable speeds. She does not tire, does not stop until four days later she is at the outskirts of the city. The Space Needle greets her as she rushes up Mount Rainer. It has been five days since she has fed. She sits and waits until night falls again.

It is time to hunt.

She locks her self loathing away in her mind as the burn overwhelms. She stalks the city, trying to find a kill. She wants to kill those who are like her, monsters. But they feel no remorse.

She stands atop a building and listens for screaming. She hears some, faint but terrified. She runs towards the noise, happens upon a man holding a knife to a pregnant woman's throat as he roughly removes her clothing. The woman sobs.

Bella grabs the man and whisks him away.

She pulls him down another alley and bites. She tears and pulls and drinks her fill until nothing but a lifeless shell is left. She closes her eyes, remorseful even though the punishment is no worse than he deserves. She slashes his neck with his knife further, letting the leftover blood drip out before taking the knife and pulverizing it to dust. A wind picks the ashes up and scatters them across the bleeding body.

She wishes again that she could cry. She kicks a wall, leaving a hole behind. She runs.

_I've searched for ninety years. How much more can I take of this?_

Then, suddenly, it's as if her prayers are answered. She stops to sniff the vial, but before she can unplug it and trace the faint scent inside, she smells something else that freezes her like a marble statue. She smells_ him, _tangerines and vanilla. It is strong and musky; a recent scent. She can almost feel her heart beat again.

The search is over. She has found him.

* * *

**And the plot thickens... **

**Review!**


	3. Rabbit Heart

_Disclaimer: rights to Twilight are SM's. This plot is mine.

* * *

_

And in the spring I shed my skin

_And it blows away with the changing wind_

_The waters turn from blue to red_

_As towards the sky I offer it_

_**-Rabbit Heart, **_**Florence + The Machine**

She follows the scent, her nose twitching like a wolf's. Her body feels more alive now than it has ever before in her half life. The venom in her veins rushes as if it were blood. She wants to howl with happiness but she knows not to give away her location… or her agenda.

Which is to kill.

She moves stealthily, silently although her body is buzzing. She follows him for miles, into one of the many forests around the area. Then she stops.

There are others.

She smells them, other scents, tangled in with his own. He is part of a coven, there is no doubt. There are six others, a particularly large coven. This slows her down quite a bit but she is not to be deterred. How can she approach them? Should she?

Lure him into the open. Set the trap. Kill.

She smiles; she has never looked more like a monster.

She takes the idea and nurtures it, feeds it, forms it. She will capture him, but she needs to lure him away first.

His greatest weakness is that he's a male. They are easily manipulated. She lets herself imagine the scenario: her hips sashaying, her teeth glinting in the moonlight as he approaches her in a trance. She reaches him, wraps her body around him. He will mistake it for desire. She will trap him, whisper in his ear her name, and bite into his neck. He will try to escape but she will be stronger, she'd been waiting for almost a century. Waiting for this moment. She will not lose.

She feels herself panting as the image in her mind gets clearer.

He will be ripped apart, little fragments catching the breeze as she pulls out her lighter. She will watch as he burns, dance around the fire. See his red eyes be consumed by the flames…

For some reason, the thought not only enthralls her but disturbs her. She shakes off the uneasy feeling. Why wouldn't she want him dead? Why wouldn't she want to punish him for what he did to her?

Why wouldn't she want to kill her Vampyre?

She does not know why. All she knows is that the thought of his beauty being reduced to ashes bothers her. She chastises herself. _Silly,_ she thinks, _girlish weaknesses. What is outward beauty when he is empty inside?_

He_ must_ be empty. _He must._

_Because if I have no soul, how can he?_

And he cannot have a soul. It is impossible. None with a soul would take her from her life and leave her dazed and confused in a colder, more imperfect reality. None with a soul would change her warm innocent flesh that so easily blushed to something hard and unfeeling. She had not blushed since 1912, and it was his entire fault.

No. He has no soul. Of that she could be sure.

_Her eyes opened blearily, the world before her blurring in and out of view like a haze of heat on a summer's day._

_But it was too cold to be a summer's day._

_She sat up, groaning. Her body felt battered and bruised; like she'd just been shot out of a cannon. She flinched as the memories bombarded her. She wasn't shot from a cannon, she was dealt even worse._

_She remembered what felt like her skin disintegrating and melting slowly, like acid eating away at her flesh. She felt along her arm for holes, but all she found was a smooth and rock hard surface, like that of marble. _

_Her vision cleared. Cleared phenomenally; she'd never seen so much of the world before. She watched as a bird lifted its wings from the nest and shook away the cold air. The bird was at least three hundred yards away and yet she could see the icicles gripping lovingly to its blood-red feathers. It was a Cardinal, and the color disturbed her deeply. The deep, dark red of blood and teeth sinking into her skin…_

_Suddenly, she was standing. Her ears listened as the forest around her woke and rustled in the wind. Where was she? Not in her garden._

_And she didn't see him either, whoever he was._

_She screwed her eyes shut, trying to remember. The blurry images shot faster and faster beneath her eyelids, too quickly for her to get anything more than an idea of awe and fear. Fear, she was afraid. She recognized the emotion, faintly, like approaching a familiar and unwelcome face. Her mind was fearful, her conscience afraid of this unknown. But her pulse didn't pick up, blood didn't rush in her ears, her heart didn't try to pound like it was supposed to.._

_She felt no heartbeat at all._

_She began to panic and still it didn't twitch. She frantically scratched at her chest and found only stone-hard flesh. There was no give, no pain, no beat. No heart. None, whatsoever. She stuck one finger against her wrist. No beat; her neck, no beat. Her hand clutched again above her breast, over where the familiar pump used to quicken and again, no beat._

_She started clawing frantically, pulling and tearing and inflicting unimaginable pain. The marble began to soften as the outer layer gave way. She threw chunks of her flesh to the ground, then bone. And yet there was no blood. Still no beat._

_Horrified, she reached into her chest and wrapped her iron fist around something cold and dull. She pulled it too, grit her teeth against the almighty pain, and ripped it out._

_In her hand was her heart. Her dead, unbeating heart. It was in her hand, not her chest. And she was still alive._

_She screamed._

Her hand slowly caresses the now healed spot. She feels her dry eyes twitch, as if searching for moisture with which to pour the misery. She thinks of how she hasn't shed tears, real saltwater tears, in quite a long time. She misses tears. She misses laughter too.

She grips the vial above her heart and hopes that someday she'll be able to do both.

The memory of that first horrific day always shakes her up emotionally. The sight of her dead heart lying limp and unimportant in her cold, changed hand haunts her waking nightmares. She has much idle time and when she is drifting she often drifts to the past. She listens again to the forest, hears a twig snap but thirty feet away. Spinning, she comes face to face with a frozen doe. She smiles at the innocent creature, but it bounds away, its scent plowing across the Vampyre's and masking it. She is hit like a bolt of lightning with an idea.

She pounces at the doe and kills it quickly, not wanting to prolong the pain. Guiltily, she slices open the animal and watches as its blood pours out. Beyond disgust and revulsion at the level to which she has sunk, she lifts the blood to her body and wipes all along her body. Soon her skin is slick with red, her hair and face dripping in it. She shuts off her shame and waits for the soaked blood to dry. She sniffs at her skin and can't find her scent; it is completely masked by the doe's.

_A sacrifice_.

One that she had to make.

The one thing free from blood is the vial, lying beneath her shirt. Within is his scent, and if she gets her way, soon his ashes will join it.

She chases the scent now, warily sniffing as the stream shifts and swerves with the others' scents. It is so strong now that it absolutely fills her nose; tangerines and vanilla, musk and roses, cinnamon pepper and another strangely familiar scent- metallic honey. The Vampyre is not the only one she knows in the coven, she's sure of it. But before she can pinpoint the scent, she is seeing through the thinning trees and gazing at a large white mansion.

This is their home.

There is no doubt that she is in the right place. She hears their voices inside. A light tinkling, a deep rumble, a seductive symphony, a low baritone; a honeyed, kind voice and a warm, comforting one. And then she hears him, the velvety undertones and the silken words leaving his lips forlornly as though they wished to touch his mouth again. A beautiful voice for a beautiful demon.

She scampers away before they can sense her. She knows where they are and she must leave now; formulate her plan. She bounds off into the forest, finds a spring in which to wash herself and her clothes. Then damp and delighted, she sets herself near the water and begins to meditate, waiting for ideas to come. She hums and the vial sways slightly against her skin. She closes her eyes and instead of the future, she sees the past.

_She was on the ground, staring forlornly up at the sky as her shredded memories came back to her with the force of a train._

_The man, red eyes, so beautiful with his bronze hair- biting her, blood dripping, sucking and tugging; the sense of being in a trance, then in a sedated calm. Then a groan that rumbled in her bones, a flash of green and red, and pain. So much pain, fire licking through her veins. Poison seeping slowly up her spine; animals tearing at her skin and running away in a whimper at the hard, cold surface._

_She'd ripped at her flesh too, like an animal. And now it was crawling back to her. She turned her head and watched, numbly, as the heart she'd extracted rolled toward her. She shivered in revulsion as it limped slowly over her breast, like a sac of goo and gore. She whimpered as it thumped into her body, painfully reconnecting itself to the lifeless aortic arch and vena cava. The chunks of bone and muscle she'd ripped at tumbled to her, too, and pieced themselves together like a puzzle; a patchwork over her useless, damnable heart. When every piece was reconnected, it laid like a slab of stone on her chest. Heavy and suffocating, pushing down her lungs. She stopped breathing, and waited for the lack of oxygen to pain her insides. She felt mild discomfort. But it never got worse than that. She counted, waited, until ten minutes later she still wasn't breathing and was still fine._

_Her fingers dug into the earth, her spine bent upwards as she silently screamed. Her sobbing was dry and quiet, her fists beating the ground like sinking her hand into a muddy puddle. She stood from the pulverized ground and stared down. Then something caught her eye, something made her sniff._

_A tangerine scent, with a hint of vanilla. She zeroed in with her impeccable vision and found what looked like an eyelash, then a piece of cloth, then a strand of his bronze hair. She sniffed at it, knowing it was his. She held it in her fist, her torn dress offering no place for her to place it._

_She swam out of her numbing fog and felt a burning feeling in her throat. She let out a surprised gasp at the sudden pain. She gripped at her slender neck, fighting the urge to reach into it like she had her chest. Flames licked up and down her throat, getting hotter as she acknowledged the pain._

_She choked and gasped, thinking that maybe she was dead and this was hell. But then she smelled it._

_Heaven._

_She felt something drip down her chin, she lifted a finger and swiped at the substance. It glowed for a second, clear, gold, and thick, before sizzling in the cold air and disintegrating. Venom. She didn't know how she knew, but she did._

_She was mildly distracted before the beautiful scent grew stronger, tantalizing and close. She was crouched on all fours, sniffing the ground like a dog, before she ran towards the center of the thing causing her throat to burn so brightly._

_She ran fast, faster, everything blurring, before she was _right there_ and pouncing and her teeth doing this weird sliding thing into something squishy._

_She heard a faint cry as her eyes closed in pleasure. The liquid flowed into her mouth, she knew not what, and soothed the burn. So good, so, so good. This couldn't be hell, not with a taste like this. She suckled like a child at its mother's breast until she continued sucking and there was nothing left. With a whine, she lifted her head and opened her eyes._

_And stared into a pair of dead ones._

She growls, remembering the first kill. How she'd run far away in disgust. How she'd screamed and knocked down trees in her anger. That was the day she became a monster and it was his fault. She didn't know, she couldn't have. It was his fault. For making her what she was, and then his fault for not warning her. For not being there when she woke, for not stopping her when she pounced. His fault she didn't have a soul, his fault. All his fault.

"All his fault, his fault, his fault." She chants. She centers herself and pulls herself from the memories so cruel. The vial greets the air and she unwraps his scent like a shrine. It wafts subtly around her and she immerses herself in it, memorizing it.

He will call her Death. Of that there is no doubt.

~Alice~

She is in her room, lying on the blankets and relishing their softness. Jasper is downstairs with the boys, playing one of those games on their new X-box. Times have changed, she thinks. So much.

And she of all people would know about change.

Her mind wanders and rests, the closest to sleep she can get, before she is greeted by a vision. It dances in front of her, like mist beneath a lamppost at night, and she greets it warmly.

_I bear news._ It seems to say. She cradles it in her arms and lets it wrap itself around her.

_Hear, _it whispers sweetly.

_Red eyes, fiery red eyes set in a pale and beautiful face. Rosebud lips form around words that slither out and taint the air._

"_Edward, Edward, must kill Edward."_

_A flash; the girl stands in the moonlight, a victorious goddess as Edward's body burns in a fire. She looks like the devil, a conquering Jezebel as her beloved brother is turned to ashes and placed in a small vial around her neck._

The vision shifts in a whirl of color and noise.

_The girl lies naked under water. Her eyes are gold in color, her expression one of affection and gratitude as an equally nude Edward descends the depths and lies next to her. _

_He wraps an arm around her waist and stares at her in adoration, in love. She cups his cheek. They stare into each other's eyes for a long moment before her lips begin to move._

"_I forgive you," she mouths. His eyes shine happily, burning brighter than any star. She smiles at him then leans in and kisses him._

_His hand tightens on her waist and he holds her like she is the most precious thing in the world._

Alice stirs with a gasp and listens to see if her brother heard her. He is oblivious, ignoring the thoughts around him, including hers. She sighs in relief before slipping out the window and running into the dark forest.

"I'm going to make this right." She vows.

Not only for her brother but also for the girl.

* * *

Oooooohhhh... Alice, whatchya gonna do?

:) Review please!


	4. Olive Grove

_Disclaimer: SM owns all recognizable places, characters, and Twilight related events. The plot full of angst and despair, however, is mine._

* * *

The blind lead the blind

_So why can't I find my way?_

_This could be heaven_

_I don't know where I am_

**-**_**An Olive Grove Facing the Sea**_, **Snow Patrol.**

**Rule three: **

**Everyone has an agenda. So make sure the thing their after doesn't happen to be you. **

Alice's mind is frantic- run thin with possibilities. The path of the future has never been more volatile, and never before has the outcome been so important. She dashes through the rainy town of Forks until she reaches pure wilderness. Then, on the outskirts of Seattle, she stops.

_C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! What do I do? What _can_ I do? Should I talk to her? What should I say?_

She imagines herself next to the girl and she is hit with a vision of being attacked. She cringes as she watches her head being ripped off and the girl screaming, "You're with him! You're with him!"

_Okay then… that's a no. What set her off? My scent? Fine, I'll mask it._

She imagines herself walking into a hospital, bleaching herself, surrounding herself with the dead and dying and all their tasty blood. She shudders; it will be hard. But she has to do it.

_Alright, now I don't smell like Alice. Now I smell like… Victoria. I'll call myself Victoria. Now I'm approaching her and…_

She watches as the girl eyes her curiously. She watches as her body parts stay intact.

_What next, what to say…_

"_Hey, what's your name?"_

"_Bella." Her eyes are shifty._

"_I'm Victoria. Gosh, it's been a long-"_

"_What's with your eyes? Why are they gold?" She looks curious._

"_Ahh… I drink animal blood?" Bella looks incredulous._

"_Yeah. Right."_

"_I swear."_

The vision shifts. She's in the forest with Bella, drinking from a buck. Bella looks on, amazed, almost awed, but disgusted.

"_How can you drink… that?" She asks._

"_You get used to it. It may not taste like the alternative, but… there's no guilt."_

It shifts again. A whirl of red and gold eyes.

"_-husband? Don't you mean mate?"_

"_Yeah, I suppose. Do you have a mate?" _

"_No." Her tone is short, clipped._

"_Well I've known mine a long time. He's actually the one who changed me."_

_Bella looks horrified._

"_And you fell in love with him?"_

"_I loved him when I was human. I was in a bad place and dying. He saved me."_

"_No. He condemned you." Bella's eyes are hard and red like a sharp stone dripping blood._

"_I don't think so. I love him and we have eternity together. That's all I need. I've made peace with myself Bella; maybe you should too."_

_The livid, confused face gets distant as Alice turns her back and runs in a roundabout way home._

She shakes her head and smiles as a Bella with golden eyes becomes a more solid future.

~Bella~

She's sitting in a bar, hugging to the shadows and nursing her beer. It tastes terrible, but she needs to keep up the human act. She watches as the bartender turns to look at her for the hundredth time since she'd walked in. She sips at the bitter mug and grimaces minutely, an expression so brief and controlled that no human would notice it. Not even the bartender watching her so avidly.

She closes her eyes and extends her hearing; is there a problem somewhere? A criminal? Her next monstrous meal? She tilts her head from side to side like a bird of prey. Snippets of conversation are caught with ease.

"_Coffee tomorrow? Around ten-"_

"_Another margarita for the lady-" _

"_Fucking Seahawks. You lost to the Bears?"_

"_Yeah. Give me a beer."_

She starts, whipping around to find the source of the perfect, unnaturally clear voice. It could only belong to a vampire.

The speaker is short- just under five feet. Her hair is a shiny, stylish bob with spikes of inky black coiffed into a chaotic tornado that contrasts beautifully with the fine contours of her face. She has the expected pale skin, ruby kissed lips, high cheekbones, aristocratic sloping nose, and a curling smile that lights up the surprisingly kind eyes.

The surprisingly kind _golden_ eyes.

Bella blanches, her jaw falling open in a rare moment of stupor. The woman walking towards her with the grace and body of a ballerina is a vampire; of that she is sure. But golden eyes? She's never seen that before.

The woman sits at the table in Bella's corner and places her mug down in a familiar motion, like she's been randomly conversing with supernatural creatures for centuries. Bella arches an eyebrow and crosses her arms and legs defensively.

"Hey, what's your name?" The golden eyes spark as she gets right into it. Bella is immediately wary; it's never good to disclose personal information before someone else does. But those eyes unnerve her and she finds herself speaking.

"Bella." Short and to the point. Survival belongs to the most secretive, she thinks.

"I'm Victoria. Gosh, it's been a long-"

"What's with your eyes? Why are they gold?" Bella can't control her curiosity. Those swirling amber eyes of sunset are putting her on edge and she doesn't know why. Maybe it's because she doesn't know _why_ they're gold. And ignorance is bliss because when you're ignorant, you're dead. Victoria smiles again, her eyes radiating warmth. It makes Bella want to relax.

_What is this trickery?_

Victoria's smile is gone as fast as it appeared. Her dainty eyebrows converge in a small v above the curious eyes. She frowns as if confused and tilts her head to the side, regarding Bella like she's a stray dog asking for food. The motion seems… practiced.

"Ahh… I drink animal blood?" She states it like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Bella balks and stares, incredulous. Shocked two times in one day; that's got to be a record. She'd heard of animal drinkers before, of course. "Vegetarians" they called themselves. But she always thought that it was some ruse, some ridiculous fantasy or tall tale that the nomads passed around to amuse themselves. She'd painted herself in animal blood not too long ago, and still the stench was imprinted on her mind. Her nose wrinkles; how anyone can drink _that _is beyond her.

It is simply not possible.

"Yeah. Right." She states sarcastically to Victoria, shooting up her defenses like a rocket into space. She juts her chin defiantly while her insides quake in curiosity and the tiniest bit of wariness.

_Maybe…_ Something akin to a conscience whispers to her. She ignores it.

"I swear." The amber eyes are honest and clear, not a shadow of doubt or mischief lurking in them. Bella bites her lip, a human habit that occasionally resurfaces when she is unsure or embarrassed. She feels her teeth dig into her skin and is hit with a memory of herself, as Isabella, doing the same thing only ninety years before.

_Bronze hair blowing in the breeze… shade beneath a tree… teeth latch onto her lip. Then fangs latch onto her neck._

She resurfaces, grimacing, before controlling her expression. Victoria looks concerned and opens her mouth to say something in that clear, crystalline voice when Bella cuts her off.

"Fine. If you're serious, show me."

Victoria smiles.

The women rise and saunter out of the bar, leaving their nearly untouched ale behind. Eyes follow them avidly, worshipping their ethereal figures. Men watch and want, but stay where they are. The taste of fear is strong in the room and dissipates as the door slowly shuts behind them.

Bella can feel the stares at her back. They're red-hot and stab at her with the need to be acknowledged. Her brow furrows as she thinks about the double edged sword her beauty presents; a bounty and bait. She raises her ivory hand and watches as the moonlight glints off of it like waves of silver.

So beautiful. So deadly.

Victoria turns down an alley and, after looking to see that nobody is watching, leaps up onto the right hand building. She motions that Bella join her and soon the two of them are leaping and bounding across the rooftops of Seattle.

They approach a forest and soar into the trees then slide down to the ground before picking up the pace again. Victoria stops after about five minutes and Bella sidles up next to her. Victoria motions with a finger to her lips in the universal sign for "quiet" before cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes.

A branch snaps and the acrid smell of animal wafts towards them.

She is after it, faster and quieter than a bullet from a gun. Bella follows and watches avidly as Victoria charges the cougar, a rare animal to be found so close to the city. The cat barely has time to howl before Victoria's fangs are ripping apart its neck and her tongue lapping at its blood. The animal gives a halfhearted swipe with its useless paws; the three inch claws don't even scratch the vampire's stony skin.

When nothing but a dry carcass and empty eyes are left, Victoria disengages her fangs and tears apart the body. She digs up the ground, scooping out dirt like a child in a sandbox before placing the body parts inside and covering them up again. She smoothes out her handiwork and brushes her palms on her jeans. Not even a hair is left. The process took about three minutes.

Bella looks on, astounded.

"How can you drink… that?" She cringes at the smell of wet fur and raw meat still lingering in the air. Victoria shrugs and smiles, casually wiping some blood from her lower lip.

"You get used to it. It may not taste like the alternative, but… there's no guilt." Her eyes flick to the side, contemplative. Bella's own eyes flick away, but hers are ashamed. The guilt… she could live without the guilt. But could she be strong enough to live without the taste?

"It's hard. Really hard; I still have trouble with it, almost as much trouble as my husband does." Bella looks up sharply, her eyes narrowing at the spiky haired individual before her. Husband? Did she say husband? The term was a human one, and vampires rarely, if ever, applied it to themselves and their mates. _Husband_- like she is a human and her mate a mortal. Most vampires see themselves as above humans, like gods. Bella doesn't; but Bella doesn't have a _mate_ to call _husband_ either.

"Your husband? Don't you mean mate?" Victoria smiles _that_ smile again, the warm, pleased one.

Then she shrugs.

"Yeah, I suppose. Do you have a mate?" She watches expectantly.

"No." Her tone is colder than her body temperature. She has no use for a mate, a distraction. He would keep her from her real goal in life; killing her Vampyre. Victoria eyes her like she's an impossible puzzle that she has the answer sheet to and yet still can't figure out.

"Well I've known mine a long time," she says in a controlled tone.

"He's actually the one who changed me."

Bella is horrified and stares at the seemingly nice vampire in front of her with new eyes. Her mate is her killer? Her mate is her Vampyre? Her mate is her reason for this existence, this hell on earth? The one she loves is the one she is supposed to _hate._

"And you fell in love with him?" She knows her tone is horrified and she doesn't try to change it. She _wants_ Victoria to see her disgust and disbelief. Because the relationship between a victim and their maker should be anything but loving.

"I loved him when I was human. I was in a bad place and dying. He saved me." She is accepting, perfectly okay with what she's just said. _Saved_- Bella wants to laugh in her face. Laugh until the sky echoes with it.

"No. He condemned you."

_He stole your soul. Heaven is closed to you now. And happiness should be too_. _I'm not happy; why should she be?_

Bella feels empty, drained. There is no way this woman can feel happiness and love. No way, none. And not with the one who brought her into this life because that is just not possible.

Because if it were possible…

That fascination with his beautiful hair, that calm in his arms, that total sense of peace even as he ended her right to salvation… His sweet scent… The reluctance to kill.

She shakes her head. It's not. It's _not. _Victoria is insane and delusional.

But she seems so down to earth, so normal. So _human._ She isn't cruel or deifying herself like many of their kind usually do after a while. She isn't crippled with loneliness and despair; she seems content.

Victoria's gaze is pitying, soft.

"I don't think so. I love him and we have eternity together." Her whisper carries to Bella's ears with the fragility of a butterfly's wings.

"That's all I need. I've made peace with myself Bella; maybe you should too." Victoria turns her back and runs, looking over her shoulder only once to see Bella, livid and confused.

_There's no way. She's a liar._

_But what if…_

She falls to the ground under the weight of her questions and slowly lifts her head up to gaze at the moon.

_It doesn't matter, anyway._

In the end, the most convincing lies are self spoken.

~Edward~

He is lying on the floor of his room. The carpet fabric drifts through his fingers, brushing against the stone marble in a way that almost warms him. The smooth, sensual, quieting timbre of Snow Patrol drifts through his speakers, blocking off the cacophony of noise he has never been able to escape.

_She was an angel, I saw her swimming there…_

His eyes shut as he gets the closest he can to being asleep, to being at peace.

_The sun glinted off of her long brown hair, bringing out highlights of red, gold, and smooth honey comb. His gaze was soft, worshipping. _

_Her smooth plump lips curled softly into a smile as a dark blush painted her cheeks._

_He almost sighed like a lovesick fool. But his throat was too raw for him to doing anymore than swallow back the ever-present rush of venom._

_She was so beautiful, so absolutely innocent and pure and perfect. And he wanted to kiss those perfect lips, to make that sly smile be of his doing, to make her eyes shine with happiness._

_He also wanted to sink his fangs into her soft, white throat and suck her dry._

_He'd never denied himself before. He'd never really needed to. If he wanted a drink, he went for it and ignored the sickness building within. But he wanted her like no other in every way. He wanted to kill her; he wanted to taste her lips and other parts of her body. He wanted _her_, violently. And it disgusted him._

_Her small, white teeth sunk into her rosy bottom lip. And he couldn't take it any more._

He sighs sadly, pulling his mind from the bittersweet memories. His eyes open and examine the pristine ceiling, looking for anything. Anything to distract him.

_Her silent mind…_

He growls in frustration.

_Her gorgeous figure…_

His fists clench.

_Her blood like honey and ambrosia, flowing into your monstrous body…_

He hops up, opens the window, and is outside in less than a second. He runs into the forest and, after about three miles, stops to climb a tree. He breaks the top and stares up at the moon. It is not even comparable to _her_ beauty.

"_Isabella…"_ His tone is that of a tortured animal. He wants to howl in pain, wants to clutch at the mile wide fracture in his chest which is invisible to all but him.

_You killed her. You killed her. You killed her._

A low whine builds in the back of his throat and his eyes prick. He is on fire in his guilt, in his sorrow. Isabella, beautiful, pure Isabella; it had been ninety years and he had yet to forget. She is always there, at the edge of his thoughts. He can still see her big, brown, endless eyes staring into his unflinchingly. She had gazed at him like he was beautiful, and not only on the outside. Her warmth against his body had been the most glorifying experience in his entire existence- one split second that absolutely demolished all others.

He shivers, though he isn't cold, and wraps his arms around his torso in an attempt to hold himself together. It gets so bad when he is left alone to his thoughts. His family knows there is something haunting him, but he's never told any of them. The closest he'd ever gotten to confessing the terrible events of that summer's day was to Carlisle when he first got on the vegetarian diet. And even then he produced only the bare minimum.

All around is silent, there are no thoughts for miles. The branches blow in the breeze. Then, he hears it. A light buzzing sound; a thought coming within hearing range.

_Edward is going to have to be careful, very careful… but if this works out the way I want it to, maybe he and Bella can work out whatever problems they have and, well… it's a very real possibility. Very possible to make real… just, go carefully from here on Alice. Take steps one at a-_

Her thoughts stop abruptly as Edward drops from the tree to come to a crouch in front of her.

_Fuck._

Her wide eyes meet his confused ones. She keeps her thoughts controlled, concentrating only on Edward. The way his nostrils flare as he catches a scent, the way his eyes widen as he recognizes it, the way his body freezes in shock before he stands straight up and glares down at her.

_Isabella. _He thinks.

"Where is she?" He all but growls at her. She is thinking how his eyes are darker than the night surrounding them.

"I've no idea what you are talking about." She stares up at him, guarded. He growls this time, low and menacing. He bends till he is at her eye level and there is barely a hand's width between their noses. His eyes are wild, feral. He bares his teeth, the fangs clicking into place as his body tenses.

"Where. Is. She?" He doesn't care that he looks like he is about to attack her. Alice is in shock, almost afraid. Where did her brother go? Who is this predator in front of her?

_Horrified eyes, red and confused staring out of a stark white face. Beautiful. _

_Vampire._

His thoughts are frantic and scared; elated and despairing. He didn't kill her.

He did much, much worse.

* * *

So, what do you think? What's Edward going to do? Do you feel sorry for the poor guy?

Get ready for the next chapter. It's going to be a doozy :)


	5. Pray Your Gods

_Disclaimer: I only have the plot.

* * *

_

I feel my body weakened by the years

_As people turn to gods with cruel design_

_Is it that they fear the pain of death?_

_Or could it be they fear the joy of life_

_**Pray Your Gods, **_**Toad the Wet Sprocket**

**Rule Four: Don't ever hesitate.**

~Alice~

_Why am I so stupid? How couldn't I have seen this?_

_And, most importantly, what do I do now?_

Edward is standing stock still, his eyes glazed over as he stares at her. He shakes his head and backs away from her slowly.

"No, no, no, _no_…" he moans brokenly. His hands run through his hair jaggedly and he grips it, crouching to the ground with a pained, almost tortured expression on his face.

Alice watches sadly, anxiously. She doesn't want to see her brother suffering so badly. She wants to fix it. But how? A century seems to pass as she takes in his broken body, the lines around his eyes that don't exist, the tears that can't possibly be streaming down his face. What feels like a heart clenches in her chest. She presses her hand to it with a gasp; still cold and dead.

_Lead him to her,_ a shadow in her mind whispers. It is that misty precognition, guiding her; but in what direction?

Edward seems not to hear her, too lost in his misery to be in touch with the outside world.

_She'll kill him, _she thinks. Her eyes close and she sees before her a pulsating orange yellow cloud, like sea spray under industrial lamps at night; ancient nature meeting modern human progress.

_No, _it whispers, _lead him to her. This is the only way._

She nods solemnly and turns to Edward, screaming at him through her thoughts, desperate to break through his mental barrier.

_Follow me! Follow me to her! _

He shakes his head slowly as he breaks the surface of his agony.

"No. I can't…" he groans. Alice is desperate, he has to listen. He has to snap out of it.

There is only one way to get him to listen.

"Fine," her tone is cold, emotionless, "she is a danger to you and I will not let you be hurt. I will kill her." She turns fast and runs in Bella's direction, hoping that it snaps him out of it. She keeps her mind blank as he howls behind her and races after.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" He bellows, unrestrained rage coloring his tone. The treetops shake with his roar and Alice shivers.

She has to reach Bella before Edward reaches her.

She runs faster and faster, the sound of her breath aiding her. _Move, move, move. Left, right, left, right._

_This is the only way._

~Bella~

She sits, cross legged, in the clearing. Her head tips back and her eyes take in the moon's watery beams. The leaves on the trees make a swishing sound, and the stars twinkle beguilingly. She breathes in deeply. All is peaceful.

Then, like a boulder thrown into a glass-surfaced lake, the smooth beauty shifts and shatters.

She whips her head around to the disturbance and sniffs. Two vampires, heading her way. One is Victoria, the other is…. Tangerines and vanilla, bronze hair and soft breezes flirting with a stone wall…

Edward.

She leaps to her feet and growls low in her throat. She waits as the tangerine scent gets stronger, stronger.

_One, two, three-_

Victoria breaks through the trees, her black hair creating a dark streak against the brown bark. She rushes past Bella and disappears to the other side of the clearing. But Bella does not care.

Because suddenly she's looking at _him._

He freezes past the tree line and his sight zeroes in on her. His jaw is slack, his eyes wide. He moves a tentative step forward into the moonlight. His bronze hair is wild and mussed. His broad shoulders and slim hips set her body tingling. He is so beautiful, so perfect; but she knows that already. He puts Adonis to shame in outward beauty, but his insides are that of the immortal gods- selfish and cruel. She knows this, and still, she can't help but feel that tugging sensation in her empty chest at the sight of him

He stares at her like she is the sun and he a man seeing it for the first time. His eyes drift down her body, physically brushing against her in their intensity. His eyes burn, they make her burn. She is unnerved by the feeling of flames licking up and down her spine, so she growls. His eyes snap up to her and she waits for the rubies to salute her. But, to her utter surprise, she finds that his eyes have changed. They're no longer painted in her blood.

They're golden.

She locks into place, her body numb with shock.

_Golden… animal drinker… _

She watches in shock as he takes another step. His eyes unnerve her; they shine like a cat's at night. He whispers, no louder than the whooshing trees, but it seems to echo through the clearing like a sonic boom.

"_Isabella."_ One word. Her name. And that's all it takes.

She leaps.

~Edward~

Under the moonlight stands his beautiful Isabella. Is he dreaming? No, he can't be. He couldn't dream of this, couldn't come up with this kind of clarity in his most lucid fantasies.

And never in his mind would he be able to bestow the gentle angel he'd built her up to be with the fury shining through her demon eyes.

She is beautifully deadly, deadly beautiful. Her mahogany hair seems richer, fuller, softer, and somehow sharper. The cheekbones are no longer soft but defined; the eyes have a feline tilt to them. Her neck is still long and slender, but the light glints off of it like the blade on a sword. Her lips are a dark, cherry dipped red. He has the insane urge to spread blood across the plump, bottom one just to see if the colors are the same.

Then he has the even crazier urge to lick, nibble, and suck on said lip.

His breath comes faster as his eyes slowly descend. The same slim shoulders he remembers, but with strength to them that belies invincibility. The soft arms are now muscular, the collarbones a swift swipe across a canvas. Her breasts scream that she is a woman and her trim waist seductively whispers in his ear, urging him to grab ahold and slide his hands along the hourglass curves. The rounded hips lead to long, endless, creamy legs. His mouth waters as they go on, and on, and on…

He feels warm, hot even. If he were human he'd be flushing and sweating. The vampire before him oozes sensuality. She is a masterpiece created by the devil himself, her only duty in life being to tempt. She falls from her pedestal; her wings turn an inky, night kissed, velvety black.

She is no longer an angel. And yet, he feels like he couldn't want to own her more.

Body, blood, and soul.

He hears a low growl that sends a shiver down his spine and his eyes shoot back up to her face. He locks in on her fury and with a start sees that her eyes are red.

Red like his used to be.

He suddenly feels sick; he'd just been staring at her like she was a piece of meat. _Her_, the one he'd practically murdered those many years ago. But at that moment, it still feels like he is holding her for the first time, under the sun, not the moon. His Isabella; his penance and punishment.

His fallen angel.

And he knows that he has to tell her, tell her or die. Words bubble in his throat, apologies and declarations. Exclamations, pleading, velvety words that might bring her closer. Anything, everything, it slides up like a rock and tumbles into his waiting mouth. He takes a step towards her, gravity latching onto him and desperation begging him to gain mercy and deliverance.

But his lips are only able to form one word- her name.

"_Isabella."_

She stills. Then she leaps.

All her muscles are tensed and she is on him in a flash. He is frozen as she glides towards him, ethereal and dangerous. She collides with his body, stone on stone. He falls back and grits his teeth. A savage sound rips out of her chest and wakes him from his trance.

If she kills him he won't be able to apologize.

Her fangs snap at his throat but he grabs her by the neck and holds her off. She squirms and straddles him, grabbing onto his shoulders and digging in her nails. He holds her back with all his strength and flips them over so that he is over her and still holding her off.

She is in a fury, savage, her eyes nearly shooting him dead. He ignores the instincts telling him to leap away, giving in to his weakness and maintaining body contact. She bucks up against him, trying to throw him off.

He groans, disgusted with how good it feels to have her so close to him.

Suddenly, she stills. Her eyes become heavy and her arms fall back against the ground. He suddenly realizes he is straddling her, his hands gripping her wrists above her flowing hair. He feels a sharp tug in his stomach.

Those plump, delicious lips curl into a seductive smile.

"Edward…" his name in that breathy voice nearly makes him burst into flames. Her scent surrounds them; strawberries and chocolate. He leans closer, eyes zeroed in on the mesmerizing lips.

Then, faster than a heartbeat, he's on his back again and she is above him, grinning down salaciously.

"Fool." She breathes, and he knows that he's done. He looks into her eyes as her hands wrap around his neck. He watches the crimson swirls and feels pressure, steadily increasing. He is limp, pleading. Hoping she can see just how much regret he is holding inside.

_They say eyes are the window to the soul. Now, let's just hope I have one._

The pressure is painful, he can feel bones and muscles straining. He stays relaxed, basking in her silent mind, treasuring the feeling of her skin on his.

_What a way to go._

Then, without warning, the pressure stops. The crimson eyes are confused, frantic. He watches as she stares at her hands in a betrayed manner and attempts to tighten them. The pressure is nonexistent; her grip remains slack.

She lifts her fingers and stares down at them in horror. Then she glares at Edward, like it's somehow his fault.

He breaks out of his self induced calm and leaps up, grabbing her arms and bringing her with him. She yelps and tenses, expecting him to throw her or shove her down. Instead, he pulls her close to him, wraps his arms around her, and burrows his nose into her soft, soft hair. He breathes in steadily, his arms tightening around her as if trying to absorb her into his body.

Their figures are perfectly aligned; she stands stock still.

He's never felt more complete.

Then, not able to resist temptation, he tilts her head up to his and meets her confused, livid, miserable gaze. He leans his forward against hers; his lips brush hers lightly. Her eyes are wide like a deer's, terrified and apprehensive.

He breathes in her sweet, panting breath as she slowly and reluctantly relaxes.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry Isabella." He whispers against her lips, the skin softer and sweeter than rose petals.

She tenses up again and rips away from him, bringing his phantom heart with her.

He cries out as she stands just out of reach. But then all is forgotten as his eyes meet hers once again.

They are filled with a pain so great no words could describe it. He flinches. How can he make it better? He doesn't even dwell on the fact that she'd been trying to kill him only a minute or two earlier as he panics to find a way to comfort her and ease her hurt.

Their eyes stay connected, gold to maroon, and the air starts to crackle with electricity. Confusion clouds the pain and she shakes her head, breaking the connection. She turns to go.

"Wait!" He steps forward, arm outstretched, and he longs for her body to be against his once more. For her lips and her eyes and the peace he'd once seen in their brown depths.

"Isabella…" She stops at his voice. She whispers softly.

"It's Bella now. Isabella is dead, remember?"

A sharp pain hits him, like being stabbed with lightning.

"You killed her." She disappears into the forest. He collapses behind her.

_I know._

The knife twists deep inside.

* * *

Oooo, we got us some chemistry!


	6. Roslyn

_Heeeeeyyyy guys._

_Please don't hurt me. I've been busy with that annoying little twit called real life and that other equally annoying writer's block._

_But my square walls have been broken down and I am now residing in the circle of awesomeness again!_

* * *

Wings wouldn't help you

_Wings wouldn't help you down_

_Down fills the ground_

_Gravity's proud_

_**-Roslyn,**_** Bon Iver and St. Vincent**

He is dead.

Physically, emotionally dead. No feeling, no heart, no pulse, nothing; and yet, he moves. He stands and stares at the deadened trees, reaching with their brushstroke fingers towards a sky too perfect and too far away. He is reaching also, but he reaches for something broken. Something he wants to _fix._

_Isabella._

Her name is bitter and tangled with lust, adoration, awe, shame, disgust, and pain. So much pain, packed into four syllables. The letters of her name might as well be written in his blood. She is- no, _was _his angel.

_Bella._

Hers is only two syllables of pain, only five letters in blood. An uneven scratch on paper; a name meaning beauty and a body personifying the term. The sound rolls off his tongue and brings forth pain, brings forth disgust, brings forth awe, and sadness, and lust, and adoration. But her name is also laced with something more powerful.

Hope.

Bella, Bella, Bella; his dark, fallen angel. She is still too good for him; he is still unworthy. But she has descended from the far away clouds of ninety years ago, and he can almost reach her. He is like the trees, pulling her down and closer. He can smell her without wanting to mar her body in any way. The devil's temptation is now a temptation in body and mind only.

The absence of her blood, of her pulse, is both a blessing and a curse.

It is now only a reminder of what used to be, of transgressions past. Its absence pulls back the layers of his carefully constructed façade, peels away the tape holding him together, and examines him curiously as he lays in pieces.

But it also provides hope. Hope for something more than tape to hold him together. Hope for that elusive feeling of being whole.

He doesn't know how long he's been lying there, cold and guilty. But the dark velvet of the night is turning more of a satiny blue, and the once small, white moon is now large, yellow, and looming on the horizon. He takes a second to count the stars, regulating his unnecessary breaths with each number.

One. He stirs.

Two, he rolls to his feet.

Three, he cranes his neck and closes his eyes.

Four, he sends up a prayer.

Five, he turns to the forest and runs.

Her scent wraps around the trees and sends him in a southern direction. His mind goes faster than his feet, spitting out ideas like a tennis ball launcher.

_Tell her she's beautiful… _

_Tell her you're sorry…_

_Tell her you couldn't resist… still can't…_

_Tell her anything. Just don't let her leave._

He feels himself go faster as her scent gets stronger. The night taunts him with images of her glistening skin, ivory and cinnamon. His veins cry out for blood. His heart cries out for a pulse. He feels human again.

The last time he felt this way was when he realized that he really was evil.

"_Oh," she gasped. She looked up at him with glazed eyes, warm cheeks, and sinfully parted lips. It took every ounce of his self control to not reach down and pull her to his cold, yearning body. _

_He swallowed down the pool of venom, just barely keeping himself from drooling._

_She shook her head, the glassy eyes took on a more curious tilt. Her hair shone, her eyes shone; the sun crawled behind a cloud, probably hiding from the monster he was and his dreadful intentions._

_She shifted and stood unsteadily. He grinned at the flaming cheeks and the wobbly gait. _

_The top of her head was level with his chest, her eyes were wide and honest as she looked into his damnable conscience. So beautiful, so pure…_

_So undeserving of his corruption._

"_Did the servants let you in? Do I know you?" She regarded him closely, gazing unflinchingly into his stone black eyes._

_He told her that no, indeed. They hadn't. That he'd climbed the wall. He didn't say that she should have run. Would she have? If she had the chance? _

"_I'm Isabella Swan." She held out her soft, dainty, fragile hand. He held it like it was spun glass and felt a tingle of electricity run up and down his spine. Her hand was so, so warm and so, so small, and so, so, __**so**__ perfect in his own. He didn't ever want to let go._

_Instead, he brought it to his lips, if only to taste her skin._

_Her eyes widened as the taste of strawberries infiltrated his mind. Her cheeks bloomed, two roses hiding beneath the skin._

_The monster screamed in hunger._

_He stepped closer. She smelled better than anything else in the world. He wanted to bottle her up, paint a portrait of her innocent seduction, replicate her blood, and lick the soft looking skin behind her ear. She looked up at him and he felt the venom come back with a vengeance at the sight of her tender throat. The sun peeked out at him. She gasped as he shone in the sunlight. _

_Her sweet breath on his face was his breaking point._

_He reached up with one hand and caressed her flaming cheek gently; it was warmer than her hand even. _

_The monster broke open his cage._

_He tilted back her head, exposing her long, soft, tender, juicy neck to his starving gaze. He leaned down and his eager lips caressed the tantalizing skin, causing her to shiver. She was so soft and warm in his arms. Pliant, willing. His fangs slid into position._

_He'd never wanted anyone so badly._

_He'd never been more guilty._

"_I am so sorry," he whispered, knowing the apology would change nothing. He bit down._

_Heaven and hell and the warm summer's breeze. _

_The devil smiled._

He cringes at the memory. The taste of her blood, still somewhere on the back of his tongue; his perfect memory can recall the taste of every perfect drop, and he hates himself for it.

He focuses on the here and now, refusing to get pulled back into that dreadful past which taunts and taints him. The trees start to thin out, he can see what looks like a small pond surrounded by rock slabs. Not something uncommon in a state like Washington. He is suddenly bombarded with Bella's scent. It is strong, heady, wonderful, mesmerizing…

He clears the trees and watches as her feet skim the water with her toes, a ballerina's point playfully drawing pictures in air.

He is silent and still, but she knows he is there. How couldn't she? She is a vampire. And he made her that way.

Her feet still.

He takes a step closer.

"What do you want?" her voice slithers through the almost morn.

_You._

~Bella~

She feels him before she smells him, hears him, or sees him. Rivulets of shocking electricity curl around her body and make her hum. It's like she has a pulse; each footstep is a new tingle running up and around her body.

The tendrils wrap and tangle until they are one long cord, connecting her to him. She can't stop it, can't acknowledge it either. But she can acknowledge him.

The water glides between her toes. Silk and satin, warm compared to the temperature of her skin.

"What do you want?" She stares out onto the glittering pond and lets her fingers caress the slab of stone offering her a seat. She loves water, always did. Even as a human. She is tempted to jump in the water, to feel it hug her skin and massage her stone frame until she is soft. Water washes away, digs to the deep. Pulls away the dirt and the grime.

Physically, she is pristine. The water she needs is not available or existent. Baptism would burn since God has abandoned her.

He is silent, stoic. She breathes deeply, visualizing ashes and fires. She almost had them, almost filled that empty space hanging from the string around her neck. But she couldn't. Her body had screamed a chorus of no's and her hands had refused to listen to what her mind had craved. Her fangs even slid out of place, pulling back into the roof of her mouth without her permission. It was maddening.

She imagines ripping and shredding his lovely skin. Her toe twitches spastically.

She growls at her body, the one thing she should be able to have complete control over.

_Why? _

"Well?" He says nothing, just steps closer. She can't hear it, but she feels a vibration in her bones.

_Yeah, this doesn't make sense._

She turns her head to glance at him. Her chest does an odd clenching thing; the muscles, stiff from misuse, cause her to grimace in irritation.

He seems even more gorgeous now, as if every second of time increases his inimitable beauty. He is the sun and the moon and the stars combined. He is heaven on the out, and hell on the in. Large, golden eyes implore her. She refuses to be pulled into them.

_Remember the black._

"What. Do. You. Want?" She is annoyed, angry, confused. Why is she still sitting there? Why isn't he burning already? What is wrong with her?

This is what she has wanted for nearly a century. This superb chance at revenge. But she can't bring herself to do it. She can't destroy him yet.

And even if she could, what would she live for after the deed was done? His existence is what has driven her and kept her from diving into flames. What happens when he's gone?

_Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I probably can't even wave a lighter in front of his face threateningly at the moment._

She thinks about backing him into a tree with the supposed lighter and then setting the tree, and him, aflame.

Two toes twitch in dismay.

_Sigh. I'll take that as a no._

"Fine, if we're done here, I'll just go until whatever sickness you carry around with you has faded and I can kill you efficiently." She's only half kidding. The serious half is the sane one and is currently being smothered by the deficient side of her already messed up brain.

She starts to stand.

"No!" He sounds desperate. She is glad. Desperation, quite the familiar emotion. She smiles, knowing he can't see it. Not that it's a happy smile, but still. He shouldn't see anything in her face but murder.

"Alright then. You've got…ten seconds. Then I'm gone, and the next time you see me we won't be talking much." She whirls around and looks him right in the freaky eyes. No point in delaying the inevitable.

He gapes at her.

"Ten… Nine…" She holds down a gleeful grin at his sudden expression of exasperation/trepidation.

_Oh, are you having a bad day? Join the club._

"Okay, okay. I… just, I need to apologize. Explain? I don't know what to say. I'm a monster. Wait, no… Well, yeah, I am. But I don't _want_ to be." His expression is colored in violent, red, aggravation. But his voice holds firm with certainty and the littlest bit of what sounds like hope. Hope that she understands.

She does, but she is adamant in not agreeing to any words out of his mouth.

"Oh, you're a monster alright."

Well, except for maybe that.

"I _know_. How couldn't I? I remember that day. I remember everything that-"

"_Don't_." She hisses, but he ignores her and keeps plowing through, attempting to 'apologize'.

"- happened and I just wish you could understand. You were my _singer. _My _la tua cantante; _it is impossible to resist. And I tried, I tried so hard. You have no idea how much it killed me to know what I-" He stops, this time of his own violation. He is staring at her, fear showing clearly in his eyes. Fear and a spark of defeat.

She feels the fury racing along her spine and fizzing in her brain. Her fists are curled, her teeth bared, her fangs are even showing a little bit.

She is beyond livid.

"_I _have no idea? _ME?_" Her voice is deadly and dripping in poison. She wants him to burn in hell, where he belongs.

"Do you know how much it _killed_ _me?_ Little, old, dead me? When I woke up on my own, with only the memory of agony and blood and a sharpened smile, do you know what I did? I panicked. I felt for a heartbeat; and when there was none, I ripped my heart out of my own chest. Do you know how it feels to hold your dead, lifeless heart in your palm and know that you are still breathing? Do you know what it feels like to have that heart crawl back into you and reconnect itself to useless veins? To hold your breath for five minutes, and realize for the first time that you're still 'alive'? Huh, do you? _DO YOU?_"

She is panting, dripping in white hot satisfaction as she registers his look of horror, of remorse, of self hatred.

_You can't possibly hate yourself more than I do. _

"And do you know what it's like to feel that fire, not knowing what the fuck is going on? Right. There." She grips her throat, digs her nails in to the skin till the flesh gives. He flinches.

"Yeah, this hurts nothing like _that_ did. And to relieve this pain, all I do is let go," she lets her hand fall away, "but the cure for _that_ pain… why, you _do _know the answer to that one, don't you? Don't you? Of course you do. Hah, you may drink deer now, but you still know. Leopards never change their spots. Hah! Unless they're eaten by a fucking vampire!" She starts giggling madly, her eyes and her mouth betraying the lingering rage she still holds. She calms down.

He watches, wide eyed and sorrowful. Worried.

_As if._

"The cure for _that_ pain was the loss of my soul. And I lost it. Hell, I sent it packing to Armageddon, dead-set on being a failure on Judgment Day. God looked down on me and said to himself 'Let's see, let's watch. Oh look, she failed. Too bad, so sad. Eternal damnation for you, dear Bella.'"

She grimaces and shakes her head, willing away the pointless tightening behind her blood soaked eyes.

"Yeah, the fire in my throat was gone, but the real agony began when I saw what I'd done. His name was Carter. And after that was Susan. Then Mitchell, then Mary, and Frank, and Paolo, and Tom, Barry, Dina, Yvonne, Sally, Nora, Melanie, Jack…" Her voice gets softer and softer with each name. His eyes are locked on hers, and, for once, they share the same expression.

Total, unadulterated pain.

"Some of them were nameless; some were fathers, sisters, brothers, mothers, daughters, sons, friends, lovers, wives, and husbands. Some were this and that and everything in the world to someone else. All were human. I started preying on the bad ones, but they were still better than me. They still mattered to someone, somewhere. And that someone would never see them again because of _me. _Because of what _you_ made me." Her eyes drift out of the past and snap onto his like missiles. He is still in one piece.

She can't kill him yet. But she can still make him hurt.

"For some goddamn reason," she snarls, "I can't kill you." She crouches and pounces at him; her body flies through the air before she is on him, and he is down. She pulls back a fist and lets it slam into his face with a satisfying thud.

He does nothing but stare up at her.

It makes her angrier for some reason. All she can see is red; his golden eyes turn amber in her fury, and she begins to pummel him with both fists.

_Slam. _"That one's for Patrick."

_Punch. _"For every drop of blood."

_Kick. _"For every night without sleep."

_Smack_. "For stealing my redemption."

He is resilient in his silence, still in his beauty, and unaffected by her punches. She growls at the sympathy in his eyes and pulls his hair, hard. She bares his neck and leans down, biting hard with her half sheathed fangs. She breaks skin.

He groans in pain.

She freezes. Her body and some ghostly spot in her mind beg her to stop.

_No more! Not him! Not him!_

Before she knows what she's doing, she's off him and standing about twenty feet away, scared and confused.

_Closer. Closer but calmer. Hold him, don't bite him._

_Don't hurt him! Not him!_

She collapses and begins to sob.

No tears run down her face. She doesn't need them. The sound of her choked screams is more than capable enough of displaying just how she feels.

Arms wrap around her and hold her close to another body. A body crackling in the strange connection, the ridiculous voice in her mind purrs contentedly while the rest of her screams harder.

_Die! _

_No, not him!_

_What is wrong with me? What is _wrong_ with me?_

She is afraid of the answer, so, instead, she asks that other question. The one that has been bothering her for quite a long time.

"Why did you leave me?" Her eyes are closed tightly, her words garbled. But he hears her, he understands.

He answers.

"I thought I had killed you, Isabella." His voice is soft, regretful.

"You did." Her answer is that of a small, scared child asking the parent why they locked her in the basement with the lights off.

He sighs and grips her tightly.

"I didn't know that I had left Bella behind."

The sun begins to rise.

* * *

Love goes both ways. I gave you a chappie and y'all can give me a review, if it so pleases you!

(Reviewers get a sneak peek of the next chapter!)


	7. Swingset Chain

This one's a little shorter, but it's more of a history lesson/ bridge chappie. The good stuff's on its way, I promise ;).

Disclaimer: My Angst, my plot, SM's characters and whatnot. Yes that rhymed

* * *

_If you want to know what that was like  
I'll tell you first, it was way too quiet  
It rained a hundred nineteen days of the year  
I spent my time falling down the stairs_

_**- Swingset Chain, **_**Loquat**

**Rule five: Trust no one. Not even yourself.**

They sit on opposite sides of a slab of rock, staring at the ground furtively, as if all the mysteries in the world are printed upon that small piece of earth. Occasionally, they will glance upwards at the other, the turn of their heads too fast for human eyes.

But just slow enough for vampire sight.

Bella breathes deeply in through her nose, his potent and unique smell assaulting her like it has been for the past ten minutes or so. So short a time to feel so long-every breath in is like an eternity of recognizing the must, the vanilla, and the tangerine. The urge to bite into him is strong and, oddly, nonviolent. She wants to lick him. She wants to kill him. She wants to get the hell away from him.

If vampires could get headaches, Bella would be screaming in agony.

Edward is pensive and patient, slowly tracing swirling shapes upon the gray slab. He doesn't realize it, but he's tracing the letters of her name: a craning "B", a graceful "E", two loops, and a lonely "A". Then he repeats the pattern.

He clears his throat. The silence between them is unbearable. Especially considering the fact that the ridiculously irresistible electric current between them is urging him to get closer, which would be a terrible idea.

Or would it?

He stares at her, taking in the graceful curve of her body, the softness of her hair in the breeze, the pale, porcelain skin- so similar to the skin of the Isabella he remembers….

Fragile, broken beauty hiding under indestructible flesh.

She ignores his stare, although she can feel it upon her like a ray of light. It is warm, but, as it is with sunlight, she is afraid it may burn her. So afraid, always so afraid. Nothing good seems to be within reach to her anymore; all she can do is exist and do so half-heartedly. Her fingers clench as he clears his throat again.

"What?" Her eyes stay trained on the ground but her tone is short, clipped, harsh. She waits for a response.

Silence.

Her head slowly tilts up and she glares at him.

His eyes meet hers, and she watches as they narrow contemplatively.

"You know, I never had much empathy as a newborn." He suddenly blurts. Her eyebrow quirks. He winces.

"Well, I don't suppose any newborn can be considered empathetic… but I was heartless. And I embraced it." His eyes take on a far away sheen.

"I was changed in 1901, not too long before I came across you," he glances at her slowly, "I'd been on my way home from the local college; I was trying to get a degree in music, I think."

"My parents never approved of what I wanted to do, but I loved playing the piano. That's one of the few things I remember from my human life- the feel of the keys beneath my fingers and the sound of my thoughts becoming reality." He shakes his head, the wistful expression on his face turning somewhat sour.

"It was late, and I lived in New York. I was walking home at night, not the smartest idea. But I was a physically strong guy, so I wasn't worried. Little did I know that something worse than a mugger was coming along."

Bella sits silently, trying to act uninterested, but being pulled in by his silky voice all the same. He sounds so bitter, so sad. Part of her revels in his pain, and another part of her sympathizes with him, wants to comfort him- even though _he_ was her 'something worse than a mugger' once upon a time.

"There was this park, small and somewhat dead looking. I remember that the slide was rusting and that the woodchips underneath were mixed in with the pieces of flaky metal that had fallen off. The only thing that seemed in good condition was the swing set. It was missing two seats out of four, but other than that it was fine. The metal gleamed in the moonlight and the chains made a squeaking noise. There was a little girl sitting on the swing, in the middle of the night, on a cold, winter's day. She didn't have a coat. I thought to myself, 'she must be an orphan, I'll offer her some warmth or food.' I felt like I could sympathize with her, you know; an abandoned orphan in a park, all alone. I was so stupid. She wasn't even shivering… that should have been the first clue that something wasn't right."

She doesn't even try to pretend she isn't listening; the clarity with which he remembers the events leading up to his change is so similar to her own. Little incongruous things, like clouds passing over the sun and rusting slides, they become so important in these memories. Like, if they'd been different, those little facts, then maybe the events of that small piece of time would be different too.

Maybe a clear sun would have helped her see his unnatural skin. Maybe a shiny slide would have taken his attention away from the swings. Or maybe whatever happened was meant to happen, and no matter the little details, the bigger picture would still be the same.

"I decided to approach her, offer her some company. I did so carefully, not wanting to frighten her off. She continued to swing as I got closer- higher and higher, her toes reaching up beyond my head. I remember the chain squeaking and thinking how strange it was that they were using metal in swings. I remember thinking how when I was a child, I'd had a rope holding me up. No squeaking, no creaking. Just smooth sailing through air."

"My breath was cloudy in the cold air… she was breathing too, but I couldn't see any clouds. I figured she was just swinging too fast. I said to her, "what's your name" and she told me her name was Bree. I told her my name was Edward. She smiled at me, it gave me chills. Something was wrong with her, this small, unnaturally pretty girl. She tilted her head at me and asked me to come closer. I couldn't resist, she was just so… innocent looking." His mouth quirks down and his brows converge in a delicate v above his wounded eyes. She stares at him unabashedly, openly admiring the set of his shoulders, the sheen of his unnaturally shaded hair. She can only let her guard down when he does the same.

It's kind of funny, the way she watches him when he's hurting.

"She said that she was nine years old. I told her that was great, asked how long she'd been nine; that I was nineteen. She smiled, saccharine sweet. Then she crooked her finger. 'I have a secret to tell you, Mister Edward.' She had this adorable lisp that made her 's' sound like a 'sh'. I leaned down." He takes a deep breath, his eyes close and his hair clings to his forehead.

"She… she leaned in and she said 'I've been nine for a _lot _longer than you've been nineteen.' And I noticed her red eyes, and her sharp teeth, and I froze. Then she leaned in even closer and bit me, right here." He rubs his finger against the curve of his neck, below his jaw. There is a tiny crescent shaped scar. It is the exact place Bella had bitten him only a half hour before.

"I woke up dazed, confused. I was in some sort of alleyway, curled up between trash cans. It was the middle of the night, the sky was clear and dark, and there was rustling around nearby- a homeless man. Needless to say, I killed him. Drained him, and I felt tremendously disgusted with myself afterward. But I'd always been good at pushing things away. Still am…"

"I didn't want to deal with it. Refused to. So I just when along with whatever I was doing, not taking responsibility for my actions, figuring this was the natural order of things. I was a vampire; I took what I had to in order to survive. People kill animals and vampires kill people- it became as simple as slaughtering livestock. Because that's what they became to me; _me, _the person who should've known better." His gaze suddenly snaps into the present and zones in on her wary one. The gold flames and flares.

"Then you came along and turned it all upside down."

His eyes shine in honesty, sparkling in the spare sun, molten gold over tempered steel. She can't help but be drawn to them; the way a tourist is drawn to what looks like a small, golden coin glinting beneath foreign waves. The taste of adventure, mystique, and promise is in the air when the sun shines on discoveries. And so it is that way when Bella spots that small gem of truth residing in the depths of Edward's desperation.

"You were so innocent, so pure…. So quiet and beautiful. I didn't want to soil you, and when I couldn't stop myself I realized that I really was a monster. And that I didn't want to live that way anymore."

"I pulled you into the woods in my frenzy. Then I left you there, and I am _so sorry_; I was out of control, I wasn't thinking straight. All I remember is screaming to myself, _at_ myself to get away, and running as fast as I could. I just ran and ran, thinking if I ran far enough, my problems would cease to exist," His eyes fall to the ground and he chuckles ruefully.

"How very wrong I was." He sighs and stands then walks over to her, crouching before her tentatively.

"After you, I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't kill; I couldn't be void of regret. I had to care. Every human was _you_, with your big eyes and rosebud mouth. All innocent, thinking, sentient beings that deserved to live and serve a purpose greater than feeding my demonic needs. I was starving and desperate when I heard of the animal drinker, Carlisle. He was in Italy at the time, and his presence amongst the Volturi made him somewhat infamous." His eyes shine brightly, the gently glowing orbs so close and still so far away.

"I was weak and hungry and incredulous. I wanted to meet this man, but I had to cross an ocean first. I hunted some sharks down and was parched enough to not even flinch when I first tasted the foul things. Little did I know, sharks are considered a delicacy compared to all the other stuff I usually eat." His beautiful features screw up in disgust and Bella can't help but smile. She doesn't want to, even bites her lips punishingly to stop them from curling upwards, but she can't help it.

He's just so lovely looking, and so earnest, and so much like a little boy in his pleading gaze. And the fact that she can think this and still hate him at the same time is somewhat insanely amusing. Maybe because she's insane. Or maybe he's making her that way.

Edward notices her grin and his words become even more energetic.

"It wasn't good, but it was good enough. I managed to get to Italy and Volterra, and I managed to find Carlisle. He was ecstatic to find someone like him; someone willing to compromise selfishness for conscience. I never told him about you and he never asked. But _you_ are the reason I even searched him out in the first place."

"You are the reason I have these," he motions to his golden eyes, "and I'm not trying to make excuses or justify what I did because it was wrong, more than wrong, evil. I'm not asking for your forgiveness because, frankly, I don't think I deserve it. All I want from you is a chance- a chance to prove that I've changed. That _you've_ changed me. And a chance to show you another way, an alternative to this life you've been living these many years. I promise you won't regret it; following Carlisle was the only right decision I've made since I was changed." He is heartbreakingly sincere, his hand an inch away from hers and tensed as if he wishes to touch her.

She is stock still, shocked, wary, afraid. Hopeful. She relishes his words, the possibility that she might be part of something better, something good. The probability that her existence might have saved a life rather than destroying one is almost as tantalizing as human blood. Especially when he looks at her like _that._

His eyes are not lying; his voice is not cajoling, but brutally honest. He couldn't be more vulnerable if he'd ripped open his chest to show her what lay inside. She feels powerfully helpless under his beseeching plea. She doesn't owe him anything, but he owes her. And maybe, just maybe, his debt can be paid.

Maybe she wants it to be.

She stands. He crouches before her, on one knee. An outsider would look upon them and think of a marriage proposal: bended knee and upturned face, shocked female.

This is a proposal, but it is more binding and everlasting than marriage.

They are eternal beings who feed on mortality. Stolen moments like these are what tether them to a world that repels the untarnished. People and animals and plants die, the earth spins and quakes, vampires go unchanging. Little things like this, instances in which they abandon their treasured routine, are the only things that make their existence in this unforgiving reality permissible.

Bella smiles sardonically. Edward shakes apprehensively.

"Okay. Bring me to Carlisle." He grins, she grimaces. Baby steps.

They stand and run, him leading and she following.

The vial clinks softly against her not so empty chest.

~C~

She clears the trees uncertainly, her footsteps cautious and afraid compared to Edward's

almost casual stroll. His shoulders are tense with worry, but his strides are long and relaxed. A contradiction, of course; Edward is the ultimate paradox according to her.

She keeps her body curled inward, protectively, as the foreign scent around her grows stronger. It is musty and varied and like stepping through a haze of heat. The air before her seems to shimmer with the multitude of scents.

_So many vampires… What a large, unusual coven._

She glances furtively at Edward as the lights of the house flash on and burn dimly against the still rising sun. A stray ray flashes across his face and he glitters as if his skin is made of crushed diamonds.

She barely holds back her groan.

_So beautiful, so irresistible, so perfect and at the same time terrible. Terrifying beauty… _

He glances back at her, observing the way she hugs the shadows with a tilt of his head. She glares back defensively. So what if she enjoys the dark?

She is just about to say something, ask him what seems to be the problem, when she hears an oddly familiar gasp.

"_Bella?_"

She turns and gapes at yet another pair of shocked golden eyes.

"_Jasper?_"

_You have got to be fucking kidding me._

* * *

Oh my Edward! What's a certain scarred and Southern someone doing with the Cullens? And how does he know dear Bella?

Guess you'll just have to find out next chapter. (I'm evil personified, I know)

P.S. I'm quite fond of reviews.


	8. Stories I Tell

_Now what is a blessing_

_And what is a dream_

_Caught between portraits_

_And none's what it seems_

_**-Stories I Tell, **_**Toad the Wet Sprocket**

She shows emotion.

It is a small, nearly invisible light to her eyes. But it exists. And Edward can't help but hate the fact that_ he's_ not the reason she's smiling like that. She looks like a goddess, with the sun hitting the whirling strands of her hair on an angle. The strings of gold and purple-red are flowing around her face and that smile is more brilliant than any sun. The light of the new day is a backdrop to her beauty, just an enhancement of her translucent skin and wide, ruby eyes. Even the bloody swirls are gorgeous to him.

Even the fangs and the marble countenance. He can't help it, he is entranced and enraptured.

She, on the other hand, is doing her best to completely disregard his existence.

"Bella?"

"Jasper?"

"_Jasper?" _This time it is Alice. She did not see this coming.

"You know Bella?" Alice again. Accusing, worried. Jasper shrugs; gives her an arched eyebrow. His forehead crinkles first in confusion, then smoothes in understanding and amusement. Edward growls lightly.

"Not like_ that_." He chuckles lightly, his golden eyes shining in the morning. Bella is baffled.

"Alice, honey, I used to be a soldier with Bella in World War II. I thought I told you this?" He cocks his head to the side. Alice folds her arms across her chest and pouts.

"Of course you told me about the war, but you never mentioned any _Bella_," Her lips curl into a delicate sneer. Bella huffs. Jasper chuckles again.

Edward's growl hits an engine-like frequency.

"Oh hush, Edward. You too, Alice. She's just a friend." Jasper's eyes swivel from face to face as Bella's narrow suspiciously at Alice's given name. The small vampire bites her lip in a very human gesture as she meets Bella's gaze. Her countenance is shy, a little awkward for the usually confident and bubbly vampire. Her eyes dart to the ground before she looks back up, false embarrassment with just a hint of determination.

Bella disregards the puppy dog eyes and the trembling lip. She is not easily swayed from her ways. And one of her most treasured standard behaviors is that of mistrust… something she had seemed to forgotten when she first set eyes on this stranger.

_I should've known better_. She mentally chastises herself. Edward shifts closer when he notices the tightening around her lips.

"So your name_ isn't_ Victoria. I should've known, what with you so _conveniently_ showing up at the bar I was in. Figures." She turns away from Alice in a clear sign of dismissal. Alice balks.

"I did what I had to do in the situation. No harm, no foul. Right?" She is nervous, hating that she isn't getting her way. She's so used to being everybody's best friend; so used to others giving in and submitting to her every desire.

Bella will have none of that.

"The one thing I hate more than a vampire is a liar. And guess what? You're both." Jasper and Edward share worried glances as Alice growls lowly and takes a step toward Bella. Bella's body tenses in anticipation, waiting for what seems to be an inevitable attack. The boys slowly move towards the two, hoping to stop the altercation before it happens. But then, out of nowhere, Alice freezes. Her eyes glaze and close, her body relaxes.

She smiles. _Finally_, her expression screams relief.

Bella looks on curiously.

Alice's eyes open again after a few seconds and she grins at the wary vampire.

"Don't worry," she says, "you'll come around." Then she turns towards the house and motions for the others to follow her.

Jasper starts after her, Bella and Edward trailing behind.

Bella catches up to Jasper and smiles softly at him in a rare show of camaraderie. Edward feels his emotions catch fire and flare as Jasper smiles down at her, then winks cheekily at Edward behind her back. He glares hotly at the teasing lift of Jasper's arm, exaggeratedly slow as it comes around Bella's shoulders for a hug. He reins in a snarl and stomps moodily ahead of them, trying very hard not to rip out Jasper's eyes.

Jasper throws back his head and lets loose a deep belly guffaw.

Bella, for the millionth time, finds herself wondering what in all the hell is going on.

And, for the millionth time, she finds that she has no clue.

"So," she leans into his embrace briefly before extracting herself, "you're a vegetarian now?" Her lips quirk up in a grin but her eyes are troubled, confused. Jasper was the last person she'd expect to give up blood. He is a savage, gorging, remorseless drinker- or, at least, he was.

He shrugs, seeing the question in her eyes and feeling the swirl in her emotions.

"I met Alice and through her, Carlisle. I struggle, don't get me wrong." His hands come up in a surrendering gesture, doing his best to calm the tempest surrounding her. Guilt and shame are thrown at him like metal bricks.

He flinches.

"Sorry," she whispers, more guilt building up and poisoning the air around her. Edward is waiting for them at the door, a worried tilt to his head.

"You okay?" He asks her, a bold move on his part. She ignores him, but her emotions decrease a little in their painful, self-hating quality. They morph into annoyance towards Edward. Jasper sighs in relief; he can deal with annoyance towards Edward. He gets it on a daily basis anyway.

"I heard that." Edward murmurs angrily, just quiet enough so that Jasper can hear him. Bella is oblivious to her surroundings, too focused on fighting the storm within.

She glares at the copper color on his head, the gold in his eyes, the set of his wide, muscular shoulders, and the perfect, aristocratic nose…

_Stop! Stop it right now!_

She squirms through the doorway; maneuvering her body in such a way that not even a follicle of hair will come into contact with him. But it is useless. His close presence still causes her presumably dead nerve endings ablaze.

She hates him for it. She hates how it thrills her. How it brings a hopeful shine to his pretty eyes.

_STOP!_

Jasper gives her and her thunderous temperament a wide berth.

_Confusion, anger, hatred, shame, guilt, annoyance, aggravation, wariness, and then… desire. What the hell Edward? She was never this unstable _before_!_

Edward ignores the confusing tone of Jasper's mind and focuses instead on that last bit of Bella's emotions. Desire, for him. She feels the same way; she, too, is victim to the pull between them. He smothers a victorious grin and follows her into the house.

She slowly comes to her senses, taking in her surroundings with wonder. The house is beautiful, no doubt, but that's not what is slowly fracturing her careful façade of indifference and hostility.

This house is just so…_ warm._

Warmth, something she's been missing out on for quite a while.

The colors are rich mahogany and dark cherry wood. The beige and coffee cream couches with their soft, pliable cushions- those downy throw pillows, that blanketed carpet. Oh, it's so human. So used, so perfect. A little piece of something she has lost, something locked deep within her. Her empathy is accessible here, in these homey surroundings.

That chandelier, curved gently and giving the appearance of molded, molten lava.

She smiles up at the curving ceilings and smooth, dappled paintings. Those stairs, curved like hers used to be. The floors around the doorways, scuffed like hers used to be. Those old fashioned doorknobs, almost exactly like hers had been.

Who could have known? Not her. She could live here; she could _live._ Forget Edward, forget pain, forget dying- she can _re_live here. She can relate. She can rebuild.

So warm. Who knew?

_Just a house. Just a house that looks eerily like the place I used to call home. Stop drifting; maybe it's time to settle?_

_Maybe I _deserve_ to settle._

And then the light that is temporarily lit inside of her dims, sputters, withers beneath what she perceives to be the selfish needs of her empty body. Of her hollow insides; of a soulless demon called vampire. She does not deserve anything.

Edward can feel her anguish through Jasper. He can see it in her eyes, in the slump of her shoulders, in the fall of her hair, hiding her face. He wants to say something, anything to make her feel better. But, as always, he finds himself unable. What if she refuses his comfort? His concern? It'd be like a knife to the gut. He grimaces- always thinking of himself. Always.

"Fuck. Ing. Hell. _Bella and Edward_! Stop it! Right now!" Jasper is glaring at the two of them balefully. His left eye twitches as he is bombarded by more simultaneous guilt.

They stare blankly at him, before each cracking their own, wary smiles.

"You two… I swear. It's a mood kill, _especially_ you,Edward. I can't even tell you the amount of times I've been cock blocked by this sodden bastard!" He points accusingly at Edward and grins at Bella's answering giggle. Edward can't even find it in himself to be angry; he knows it's true.

And the sound of her laughter is entrancing.

"Oh, don't even. More often than not it's your fault I'm sulky! Those ringing emotions of disgust and horror would be nonexistent if you and Alice could keep your _noises_ and thoughts to yourself! You've got it easy buddy! Imagine being able to know what is going on in _Alice's _mind for half a century!" Edward freezes suddenly. Jasper's eyes are wide as they shimmy over to Bella's inquisitive gaze.

"Wait, what do you mean? You're a _mind reader?"_ Her curious expression turns horrified and shocked. She backs away from him slowly, arms stretched out and eyes darting. She looks like the deer he hunts when they realize they are about to die.

"So you've been able to root around in my head this whole time? And you didn't say anything? You- you! I have to get out of here… No, you can't _do that_, you can't- YOU CAN'T JUST INVADE MY PRIVACY LIKE THAT!"

She is crazed with rage, her stature swinging violently from defensive to about to attack. He flinches at the screech in her voice, the desperation in her eyes. Jasper attempts to calm her down, to no avail. He sends a pleading look in Edward's direction.

_It's up to you buddy._

"Bella, calm down. It's all alright, okay? I can't read your mind. I have no idea what you are thinking now or ever. I never did. That's… that's one of the things that drew me to you when you were human," his eyes dart away from her briefly and he gulps, sending a fervent prayer up to the heavens, "your silence. I found it strange. You were the first, and the only, mind that I've never been able to get a read on."

She is about to say something; maybe let her frozen stance melt a bit. Can she even thaw? Is it possible?

Her eyes say no. But what does he know? Eyes used to be windows, and minds used to all be open to him. She is closed and cut off; cherishing the privacy he so wishes to make invalid. Her eyes are weighted down by timid brows, and her mouth opens to utter words stolen by the entrance of the rest of his family.

"Well, well, well," Emmett booms from atop the staircase, "what have we here?"

~Bella~

What does she believe in?

Not words, not gestures, but actions. In front of her is a man of action- a tangible proof of insanity bundled in hope. An idea in ribbons of gold and mercy, that she might someday not be a monster.

But she does not believe in ideas either. Not until they come to fruition.

"Bella, I've been waiting a long time to meet you." A smile plays about the blonde one's face, Carlisle. She gazes at him curiously as he sits on the sofa in across from her reclining figure. He is quite beautiful, as far as vampires' looks go. But it is not just the static beauty she sees bestowed upon many of their kind; he seems to have some inner glow. Some molten gold center swimming in warm, inviting honey. Not a heart, but better, in a way. Like the sun; that's what he is like. A suffering sun, who has battled with temptation and whose gravitational field is still as strong as ever, pulling others in with a disposition similar to his, or at least the desire to have a similar disposition.

She shakes her head at her circular thinking- when had her tactile skills turned so introverted? She used to believe in what she could see and feel beneath her super sensitive skin, now she finds herself contemplating gooey centers, sunny smiles, and little Isaac Newton's floating around, attracting loose apples like a giant, winged magnet.

She smiles to herself, quick and fleeting, at the unbidden and ridiculous image.

"What do you mean?" She glances up to his friendly eyes to see them crinkle at the corners, or maybe it's her imagination. He just seems so human.

"Well," his gaze takes on a more somber frequency, "when Edward first came to me, he had very little to say about _why_ he came to me. Gave me some crackpot story full of holes about how he was curious about my way of life and wanted to try it on, like an experiment or something." He gives a small puff of disbelieving air, a smile slowly seeping onto his face.

"Even when I first met him, I knew he wasn't that kind of vampire. I knew that he was one of those sloth-like psychos who looked at a problem from every angle, then meticulously spent a couple of months sorting through the pros and cons before trying to fix it or change it in any way." He is smiling broadly in Edward's direction now, a teasing tilt to his head and the tone of his voice. Edward grins back mutedly.

Carlisle's gaze snaps back to her, teasing tone abandoned in favor of a questioning, almost wondrous one.

"And here you are; the controversial reason of my greatest, most resolute pupil. Not once has Edward slipped since the start of this lifestyle and I had always wondered what kind of event gave birth to a determination so strong; what melded the iron in his will. And now, here the answer sits before me. But I still have questions, as I'm sure you do also. Maybe it is best you tell your side of the story first." She grimaces minutely and the smallish vampire to the left of Carlisle on the couch stabs his side not too gently. He hops in surprise, glancing fondly at his mini attacker.

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Her voice is smooth and gentle, even in her slightly ferocious reprimand of what is obviously her mate. The way she orbits him, like some satellite- if Carlisle is the sun, then here is his Earth. Dependant on his existence in the universe. Her caramel hair lies gently on her shoulders, bringing out the amber in her eyes. Her eyes are different from Carlisle's, darker in color. Carlisle's arm comes around her shoulders.

"This is my wife, Esme." Such a human term- WIFE is for mortals. MATE is for vampires. Then again, these are strange creatures stuck somewhere between the two species' behaviors. Resilient humans? Funny, that one. Resilient and human should never be paired together; their meanings are just too contradictory.

"And… since nobody's going to introduce me, I'm Emmett." The large one is standing behind the couch, with Edward on his right. _Jupiter_, that should be his moniker; Carlisle is the sun, Esme the earth, and this giant can be Jupiter. Then what are the rest?

The blonde sitting on the couch in front of him next to Esme is his mate… cold and beautiful, achingly beautiful. She can be his moon, Europa- smooth on the surface and comprising of hard, unyielding rock and ice.

Bella feels like she is looking into a mirror when she sees this vampire. A hard, unforgivable, admittedly more beautiful mirror.

"This is Rosalie, my mate." Emmett points out what she has already deduced and his gaze flits between the two women warily. Rosalie's eyes narrow as she surveys Bella. Bella does not back down, returning her stare with equal suspicion and hostility.

Then the blonde one smiles.

It is gorgeous, almost as gorgeous as Edward, and it seems to take the coven by surprise. They gasp and stare questioningly at Rosalie who just shrugs in response, stands, and sits down by Bella's side.

"She's alright." None seem more shocked than her mate, whose head keeps swinging from Rosalie to Bella and back.

"I'm Alice," the lying one announces jovially, pulling Bella's attention away from her new ally, "as you already know, and my mate is Jasper, as you, again, already know. Then you also know Edward and yadda, yadda, yadda… let's get on to the good part. You know? Where you tell me how you know my husband?" Her spiky hair vibrates with energy and pent up curiosity. Bella feels Jasper sending calming waves in her direction, and the emphatic manipulation is enough to get her to relax a bit and open her mouth.

"We met during World War II." She stops. Watches with growing amusement as Alice tries to hold in her words. The small lips purse, golden eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth as if to speak several times. Jasper huffs in amusement, knowing Bella is making Alice sweat, and is just about to give her the "go ahead and ask her some questions, you dork" signal when he is interrupted.

By an impatient _Edward._

"AND?"Jasper laughs outright and Bella can't help but smile when she sees Edward-arms crossed, foot tapping. Then she sobers.

He should not make demands on her. He has no right.

No matter how adorable he looks when he pouts.

"Consider yourself lucky you're even within ten feet of me right now. Any more petulant outbursts and you're getting nada." He is properly mollified and Rosalie whispers under her breath (but loud enough for every bloodsucker, vegetarian or otherwise, within fifty feet to hear her) "_Brava."_

Bella grins.

Edward glares.

Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Esme, and Carlisle contain their laughter and decide a communal smirk is in order.

Bella takes a deep breath. "I was in Russia when we met. I'd always wanted to go there when I was-" she stops, glances furtively at the ceiling, avoiding Edward's eyes.

"When I was younger and as a nomad I had nothing stopping me from visiting. I ran up through Canada and Alaska, and then swam across the Bering Sea. The coast on the Asian side of Russia was scarcely populated. So I had to move more towards the center." Shame coats her features. Moving inland to satisfy the bloodlust. That's what she had to do.

She looks around at all the honeyed eyes.

_You didn't _have _to. There's another way. You're just too weak._

"I met a family on my way, asked them where I could find the "heart of Russia". I was a tourist, still a bit romanticized back then. I came to Russia as a tourist, and I wanted the full experience to take my mind off of….other things. They told me to go to the Volga River. So, I went." She begins to smile.

"I'm fairly sure I was a fish in a former life, because whenever I see water, I'm just compelled to take a swim. I was like that when I was younger too, always jumping into random lakes and ponds. So when I saw the magnificent Volga, I just couldn't help myself. I did a cannonball in, trying to make the biggest splash possible." She smiles broadly now, her eyes twinkling.

"And I landed right on Jasper's head."

Jasper winces in pain but Alice is shaking with suppressed laughter along with Emmett and Edward. Jasper glares at his family, all of which are either grinning or chuckling at his expense.

Bella laughs out loud, not even bothering to hide it.

"You know you wouldn't have it any other way," she teases. He shakes his head, muttering quietly to himself.

She smiles at him softly, her eyes turning a little sadder as she gazes upon him. He avoids her eyes.

"He was writhing in pain when I found him." Everything is quiet and still. The laughter fades into nothing, as if it had never been. Somberly, it strains for a few seconds more, trying to keep the situation light. But, as it is with most good things, it doesn't last.

"Only halfway through the change, and drowning uselessly too." Her hands are clasped and quiver shortly. A shiver runs through her body at the memory.

"His lungs were already embedded with the venom, so he wouldn't die from inhaling the water, but I dragged him up on the shore anyway-"

"_Shh, shh. You're alright, you're alright. Shh…" She brushed the flaxen hair from his forehead as he whimpered and wailed in agony. His limbs flailed weakly and he coughed up water. She grimaced; the poor thing._

_To change is painful enough! But that? That must have been hell._

_She sat with him as his cries increased, running her fingers through his hair and slowly stroking his skin. His features were waxy and hardening; she watched with wonder as the bones shifted and narrowed beneath his skin, how the chin seemed to become more set. His skin rippled and tightened, wrinkles smoothed out and the bags under his eyes disappeared. She had never seen a change up close before. _

_It was awe inspiring, gruesome, and painful. She remembered her own change well enough. And now he, too, would have to go through the same ordeal._

_He got a new face that day, and a stronger body. The guilt and the self loathing would sit indefinitely upon those durable new shoulders of his._

_Only the indestructible vampire could carry a burden that heavy. _

_The sun rose and set, hidden by the clouds and the trees surrounding the bank on which she and her new companion rested. His body had gone suddenly still just as the last streaks of light faded away, every line of muscle and ligament tautened under the strain. Her hand rested lightly on his chest, just over his heart. It raced frantically, heartbeat chasing heartbeat towards some inevitable end._

_Thump… Thump… Thump- thump- thump,thump,thumpthumpthumpthumpthu-_

…_._

_His eyes opened unexpectedly. They stared into hers, a bright red color._

_He snarled. Long and low. He bucked against her hands that had traveled abruptly to his shoulders. A voice whispered in her mind, traced guttural syllables along her consciousness. A primitive language with a primal meaning- run, save yourself._

_She ignored it and held him down. His strength surprised her._

_She, at the time, had known nothing about newborns._

_He growled savagely, those dark eyes still trained on hers. His hands clasped her arms and he lifted her bodily, flinging her away from him. She went spinning through the air, the world around her disorienting to her eyes. She closed them and twisted her body, landing on all fours like a cat. Her eyes opened and she watched as the vampire leapt to his feet._

_His head swiveled back and forth; his eyes were confused and scared. He crouched low and the rumble in his throat was like thunder. Suddenly, he cried out in pain and gripped his throat. She winced sympathetically. He had felt the burn of their kind._

_The flames of hell signaling an evil need._

_He whimpered again, but when she tried to approach him, he bared his teeth and backed away. Staying very still, she tried to speak to him. She opened her mouth, useless words on the tip of her tongue, when a breeze stumbled through the air._

_Humans._

_Blood._

_His head snapped up and his eyes took on a manic glint. With the desperate, clumsy spin of a marionette, he went bounding in the direction of the mouthwatering scent._

_She watched in horror and fought with the pull herself. Those veins pulsing with life were like iron strings, bound to her body. _

_Bella went running after him, trying desperately to catch up. But he was like the wind, and he pulled ahead of her, tongue nearly lolling out in salivation. The sun was out now, his skin sparkled. She flinched in horror._

_Their kind was beautiful even in vile pursuit; how dreadfully ironic._

_The Volga in that area was about six hundred yards; slim for the mightiest river in Europe, but still impressively large. The golden curled vampire leapt all six hundred yards in a single bound, with Bella hot on his heels._

_She went crashing to the other side just as he launched himself into the trees and started cart wheeling from trunk to trunk, using his momentum to push him faster and faster. She followed on the ground, dodging and hoping that she could catch him before he hurled himself into the abyss._

_As the sweet, cloying scent grew stronger, she was afraid that she would not be able to._

_Suddenly, she heard a rustling sound. Warm, saturated bodies with soft, tender skin. Her mouth watered, her pace quickened. She no longer wanted to stop him; she wanted to get to the prey first._

_The two came bursting out of the trees and descended on the humans at the same time. The blonde got there first and shoved his razor teeth brutally into one of the humans' necks. Bella ignored the tearing sound and reached for the other, shocked man. Her eyes met his._

_Big, blue, scared eyes. She relented._

_The other vampire growled and lifted himself from his brutalized meal, only to snatch the other one up and break his neck. He alternated between the two, sucking, gulping, gurgling in joy as Bella stood by- conflicted, warring with the savage inside, and watching in horrified fascination as the other vampire drank remorselessly._

_When the bodies were fully drained and the land around them licked clean, he stood up and calmly brushed himself off. He turned to Bella and smiled. She blanched and glared accusingly._

_He spoke in Russian, holding out his hand. His voice was smooth and littered with recurring syllables. Stressed. Unstressed. High, soft, hard, low. A rollercoaster of sound._

"_I don't speak your language." She glared coldly at him. He knew she understood that he meant to shake her hand and he retracted his slowly, returning her hardened stare._

"_It's not my language." His voice took on a Southern lilt. Bella stumbled back, surprised._

_He laughed. "What? Not expecting a good old Texan in the Soviet Union?" _

_He grinned at her slowly and she felt the hostility slowly melt from her bones._

"_No, not really. But never mind that. Let's focus on the fact that you just brutally murdered two men and you seem to have no guilt whatsoever." She couldn't contain her disgust and jealousy and her tension came back fully._

_How come _he'_s spared the guilt?_

"_Hi. I'm Jasper."_

"_Answer me."_

_He sighed and glanced passively at the bodies sprawled at his feet. He shrugged nonchalantly and met her gaze. His grin turned wry, careless. She felt fury settle in her bones._

_He bent towards the carnage and slid something off the arm of the blue-eyed one. She watched as he lifted it to her and shook it ostentatiously in her face._

"_Because, my dear nameless companion, these are _NOT _men."_

_The red armband swayed back and forth like a pendulum, its white circle containing what looked like a twisted cross. _

_The Swastika._

"_Nazi's." She breathed. He dropped the cursed symbol and kicked the dead bodies savagely._

_She gulped, looked down, and then raised her hand with her eyes._

"_Nice to meet you Jasper, my name's Bella."_

"We disposed of the bodies, of course, and then Jasper had a talking to about no matter how spineless and evil some humans are, you still shouldn't treat them like cattle. Yes, eat them if you must, but don't rip them to shreds and then further abuse their corpses. As he did with those two Nazi officers." She fixed him in a hard stare.

"She makes it out like I skinned helpless little kittens or drowned a puppy." He grumbles, not meeting her eyes. He tries to play off his discomfort, but nobody is fooled. Tensed shoulders tend to give away a lot.

"Yeah, well-"

"Maybe _I_ should finish the story." Jasper finally looks at her. She hesitates and cocks an eyebrow.

"Very well then." She waves her hands and sits back against the couch. Jasper leans forward, head down, forearms balanced on his knees. Edward and Emmet hunch against the wall. Alice sits next to Jasper and rubs his back, Carlisle and Esme on her other side. Only Rosalie sits on the same couch as Bella.

Jasper huffs.

"I guess I can only begin at the _real_ beginning. Or, at least, the one that I can remember. See, I have an unnaturally good recall of my human years before the change. Most likely because they were just so… chaotic…"

"I travelled to Russia after the War broke out. I wanted to be part of the fighting over there. I was bored with my life in Texas, and I craved the excitement of war. It was still romanticized back then, even after _All Quiet on the Western Front._" His hands curl briefly into fists.

"My mama begged me not to go but I wouldn't listen to her. I wanted to get over to the fighting and though I was a good Southern boy, my pa had been a Russian immigrant. We had a deeply instilled respect for Russia, a country that he loved but had to leave behind during the Communist take over. Russia needed our help and pa couldn't be prouder when I declared that I was going over there to fight. He gave me some money and the names of relatives then carted me off, a big smile on his face and his arm around my sobbing ma." He shook his head and snorted.

"That was the last time I ever saw them."

"I sailed over there with the money I'd made working a ranch two miles from my home and the money from pa. Cost an arm and a leg to get to Alaska, across the Bering Sea, and off to the closest recruiting camp. Of course, it only got harder from there on out."

"I had to prove myself, had to learn Russian. But I was used to my dad speaking it around the house and I'd picked up some of the basic language from him. Plus, there wasn't much you had to _say_ in the Army. It was more about doing stuff. The Red Army was all about strength, bravery, and cunning. I was strong after years of hauling ass in sweltering heat for assholes a fourth my size. I wasn't brave, just stupid. Which, if you think about it, is kind of the same thing."

His lips quirk up. Bella shakes her head in amusement. That's Jasper, finding humor in even the dreariest environment.

"And I had cunning. I was damn good at strategy and anticipating my opponents' intentions. I had a sort of gift for understanding how people felt and influencing their emotions in return. I knew when the commanders were pissed and when they were in a mood for some good, American entertainment. I guess they really appreciated that out of me. I could make them laugh even when the days looked bleak and endless."

"I got a better hang on the language as the months went by, and I guess my southern charm endeared me to the Russians, because I finally, after weeks of training in camps and being sent on bogus scout missions, was on my way to the battlefield. Stalingrad." His eyes shine with excitement suddenly, as if the name of that city itself is enough to make him invincible.

Well, _more_ invincible.

"My camp was steadily progressing along the Volga River, as that was the fastest route. She was worshipped by the Russians. They love big, strong, and fast. The Volga was the biggest, the strongest, the fastest and that made them deliriously smug. You should've seen the way those people looked at it. Like they were hankering to take a swim in it, and it was one damn cold river, mind you." His accent gets thicker, little rivers of baked honey dripping from his tongue with that throaty "hankering". Emmett snorts.

"Just you wait. Mr. Southern is going to be throwing out a y'all, mighty fine, hush puppy, or howdy in the near future. You can always tell when he gets his _draaaaawl _on." He mocks good-naturedly and Bella can't but wonder how he- a large, explosive, warm kind of volcano, ended up with Rosalie. The proverbial glacier.

She casts a side glance at Rosalie and finds her question answered. The way she stares at her mate- all glossy eyed and goofy smile- is enough. The warmth of Emmett is her core. Opposites attract; isn't that so?

Fiery Emmett melting the icy Rosalie.

_Is that how it would be for Edward and me? Guilt balancing out Guilt? The past failures vs. the present?_

She can't help but hate herself for wondering. And she can't help but wonder. He is just…

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Muscular lines and shadows she is dying to lick. That jaw, that small piece of hair hanging in front of his downturned eyes. She longs to brush it away, and then trail her hand across his body. She longs for that spark when his skin meets hers, the chemical reaction, and the _heat._ Oh, how she _craves_ his warmth.

She can lust after him, right? She doesn't have to _like_ him to think he's gorgeous. He just _is_, and there's nothing wrong with her making an… observation. Yes, that's what it is. Observing. She can hate _him_ and admire his _body_. After all, it's his insides that she dislikes. Let him be a piece of meat. An odd kind of satisfaction flows through her.

_Let him be a piece of meat. Prey. Let him be powerless and immaterial. Let him not matter. Because, after all, he doesn't._

Edward's eyes suddenly meet hers. Golden, surprised, gloating. He sees the way she watches him and she looks away.

Those _fucking_ eyes.

They make her shiver in disgust with herself.

He is a person, no matter how much she denies it. And she knows it, too. She tries to treat him like an object, but it is impossible. Purely impossible every time she sees those eyes.

Windows to the soul. They should be empty, because he _should_ be soulless.

Before she can dwell on it for too much longer, Jasper's story starts up again. She glances slyly at him, only to find him glaring at her in an exasperated kind of way. She smiles apologetically.

_Yeah, I know. I'll try and control my bipolar tendencies._

"Anyway," he drags the word out to catch the attention of an otherwise distracted audience (i.e. Bella and Edward), "as I was saying, it was the summer of 1942. I'd been in the Red Army for nearly a year and the outlook was getting a bit better. The Nazi's had failed to take Moscow and that gave us hope. They knew it too, that's why they went for Stalingrad. They wanted to stamp out our hope. But we were made of stronger stuff than they thought. We were going to defend that city until the gates of hell opened up and the Devil himself, Hitler, came to deal with us personally. Of course, he never did. Bastard." Jasper's usually calm façade drops suddenly and fury rings in his eyes, in his sneer.

"We were stationed near Brykino and I was sent on a scouting mission to find kindling and scope the terrain. They sent me with a friend of mine, Alexei, and we were approaching the river when we heard a screeching sound. We thought it was an owl at first, but then we heard a rushing noise, like feet moving across the ground. We got our guns out, in case it was a moose or a bear." His eyes close, clenching shut so that minute lines appear near the corners. His body tenses and Alice wraps her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder blades.

"It came out of the darkness. Bright red eyes and teeth that glinted in the moonlight. It struck Alexei first and he went down screaming, thrashing uselessly. I remember holding up my gun and shooting two bullets, praying that I hit the creature and not Alexei. One of the bullets came bouncing back and I ducked. The other ricocheted into a tree trunk. The creature didn't even flinch. I… I ran. I was so terrified, so confused. All I can remember thinking is what the fuck? Over and over again." He seems to curl in on himself. His voice is now a whisper. Bella has never heard him tell it in this much detail. She knew the basics but never about Alexei.

"I ran towards the Volga. I was about ten feet away when I heard _it_ behind me. I never ran as fast as I did in those last seconds. I thought I could dive in the water and escape, I thought about how Alexei would not survive, I thought about my ma and pa and Stalingrad. And then it caught me, stuck its fangs in my arm, and drank."

"I guess it was an older vampire, because a third way through draining me dry, it just stopped. Apparently, Alexei had been more than enough to sustain its thirst. Then, as it stopped, it leaned down and kissed my cheek. All I saw was red hair and the red eyes again, and then it was gone. I think it was a girl though, because it whispered to me as it turned to leave. A name. Nessie. And then I was changing. When she had tackled me I was about a foot from the water. All my thrashing and screaming pushed me into the river and the flow carried me for a couple of miles to where Bella landed on me. I think it was near Belyj Gorodok? Where you pulled me out?"

She nods.

"And that's how we met, originally. That's how it began." He is silent. Nobody speaks.

"But…" Carlisle calmly goads.

"But…" Bella continues, picking up the reins after a grateful look from Jasper.

"That's not how it ended. I didn't want to leave Jasper by himself because I felt like I could help him. And I was lonely. Plus, he'd had this absolutely fantastic idea-"

"_Let's go to Stalingrad." They had been swimming casually down the river, at Bella's insistence. She gave him a questioning glance as she kicked lazily, letting the current carry her on her back. Her ears were underwater but she could hear him perfectly as he spoke._

"_Why? And what for? Isn't there a war going on over there?" Jasper hummed in agreement and they floated silently for a while more. He turned onto his stomach and started doggy-paddling._

"_Yes, and that is exactly why we should go over there. To help fight the Nazi's." Bella turned and swam next to him, gazing at him curiously. His eyes had taken on a shiny glint, like a penny in the sun._

"_But what is the point?" Jasper sighed exasperatedly and shook his head. He fixed her with an intent gaze. Suddenly, she felt as if her bones were on fire. Her body hummed excitedly, and if she'd had a pulse, it would have been hammering._

_His eyes glowed like a cat's._

"_The point is to do some good with what we have. The Russians need help and we need blood. The Nazi's are evil. Have you heard what they've done to Jews and Gypsies and anyone else who stands in their way? It's all hush-hush, but the camps I was trained in were alight with rumors and one of our newer recruits had _been_ there when it happened. They tortured people, Bella. _Children!_ Whole families watched each other die in gas chambers or were starved to death. They are brutal, inhuman animals. They _deserve _to die. And, besides, we need the blood." She found herself nodding unconsciously as he spoke. He was just so…persuasive._

"_Now," he said, his eyebrows scrunched together in determination, "I don't know about you, but I'd much rather spend my time killing Nazi's than innocent people."_

_Somehow, she just couldn't say no. And anyway, she was planning to stick with him in the first place. Might as well make it worthwhile._

_Right?_

"_Let's do it."_

_They started to swim faster, racing the current down the river for a day before they reached the banks near Stalingrad. The shots rang out from half a mile away, where they stood, soaking on the western side of the river. A pair of officers in brown, folded hats and jackets with lapels neatly smoothed pulled out their guns and started blubbering in Russian._

"_Стой!__Кто вы__?"_

_Jasper held up his hands in surrender and spoke soothingly, explaining how he and his partner had been chased from a village nearby on the Eastern bank and had jumped into the river to escape the Nazi's. They would be happy to help the soldiers if the soldiers helped them._

_Placated, the officers led them to their commander._

"_Follow my lead," Jasper whispered to Bella as, dripping wet, they approached a broad, intimidating man with dark eyes and an even darker beard._

_The commander asked Jasper some questions and Jasper answered them easily enough. Bella felt that same strange sense of calm she'd felt when she first met him as he talked and she watched in amazement as the harsh commander relaxed slightly. He gave them clothes and food, which they discreetly ignored._

_After they had been taken care of, the commander turned away._

"_Вы__! __Возьмите их в__окопах__!__" He said to one of the commanders. Jasper cleared his throat as the other soldier approached them cautiously. _

_The soldier was staring into Bella's eyes. Probably wondering about the red color._

"_Пожалуйста__, __мы__солдаты__. __Мы будем бороться__-" He said firmly to the commander, who'd tensed. He turned slowly, his black eyes looking into Jasper's._

_He flinched and turned away, then waved his hand at the officer who retreated._

_The commander waved them over and pointed off into the distant darkness, where a fire was roaring. Soldiers sat around it._

_Jasper tensed and Bella put her hand on his arm. He'd done wonderfully, keeping himself from killing these humans on first sight so far. But to approach them near a fire, where they were warm and full?_

_Impossible._

"Wait." Edward interrupts, his voice tinged with confusion. Bella turns to him reluctantly, her eyes flashing in annoyance.

"How did he not kill those people? Newborns don't have that amount of control." Bella shrugs and Jasper raises his head to smile at Edward.

"See, the thing is," he says, blonde hair swinging in front of glittering eyes, "they smelled like animals, not humans." Edward is incredulous.

"That's it? They _smelled_?"

"Well, yeah. They'd been in that city for a while, and they were coated in ash and metallic shit, and they hadn't showered in a couple of months. And it wasn't the soldiers that attracted me; it was the infirmary not too far away." He shudders.

"All those open wounds… but I knew I'd get to feast on Nazi's in a few hours so I managed to reign it in. I guess my army discipline had followed me into this new life." His eyes suddenly dampen.

"And I could feel their emotions. It made them less appetizing to me, because they felt like people. Not just food. It was weird, I had no idea what was going on. I didn't know if it was normal vampire behavior to feel when others are scared, confused, sad, etc."

Bella gives him the stink eye and he bursts into laughter.

"He was sneaky," she says sullenly, "using that power of his to get me to go with him to Stalingrad and then using it on the commander. I knew something was up, but it wasn't until later that I really approached him about The Vibes, as I'd come to call them."

Emmett raises an eyebrow but stays silent.

"It was sometime around January of 1943, we'd been fighting for a couple of months…"

"_Jasper!" Bella whispered as they sat on the bank of the Volga. It was quiet for once, both sides waiting through the night after nearly a month of constant bombardment._

"_Yeah?" He was reclining next to her, staring up at the lights in the night sky. She looked at him briefly before copying his pose, stretching her body out along his. With hands behind her head, she gazed up at the night sky with him. She felt a wave of calm flow over her slowly. It rocked from her head to her toes until she felt blanketed in warmth._

_The Vibes again._

"_What is that?" She kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb the night. She felt peaceful; they'd just had a good meal of Nazi officers an hour before. But the peace she felt wasn't due to that. It was due to something that rolled off of Jasper and glided across her skin._

"_What is what?" She heard the scratch of hair against dirt and felt the burn of his eyes as they focused on the side of her face._

_She continued to stare into the night. Stars were so much clearer and closer as a vampire._

"_What is that… calm? You know what I mean!" She was exasperated and she waited to hear him laugh at her expense. He usually did. Jasper was an easygoing guy._

_But, to her surprise, all she heard was the sound of the humans breathing fitfully in their sleep hundreds of yards away._

_She turned on her side and found him looking up at the sky, a rumpled expression on his face. The calm disintegrated._

"_I…don't know. I can feel other people's emotions. Vampires, animals, humans… and I can kind of push my emotions on them. Ya know? Like, if I want someone to be angry, they'll get angry. Or if I want a human to be paralyzed with fear, that's what they'll be." He turned his eyes towards her._

"_Wow." She was impressed. He grimaced._

"_It's not what you think. I _feel_ other people's emotions like they are my own. So whenever I go to kill, I can feel the terror and the pain. And I just want to run away. And when you feed, I feel this crushing guilt. Like a ten-ton weight is dropped on my head." He looked at her with a hint of pity in his eyes. She rolled onto her back again as the guilt crept back in._

"_How do you stand it?" He was the one whispering, then. She didn't answer._

_She couldn't._

_They lay together in the silence, and a heavy blanket pressed on their chests. Bella couldn't bear it anymore, and was about to get up, but an officer came sprinting towards them. They could see through the supposedly impenetrable dark as he stumbled and shivered._

_He stopped fifty feet away, as if he couldn't bear to go any closer._

"_R-Rusalka? Vodn-n-nik?" His voice trembled as he called them by their army names. They grinned slightly at each other._

_Rusalka- a beautiful, female water demon from Slavic folklore; pastimes include luring men to rivers and drowning them._

_Vodnik (or Vodyanoy) - male water demon from Slavic folklore; he enjoys dragging helpless fishermen down to the deeps to keep as slaves._

_Of course, Bella and Jasper didn't completely match the descriptions of the two faeries, (Rusalki being drowned women unable to leave the water and the Vodnik having the appearance of bums or large, bearded fish), but their infamous arrival into the camp by water and the rumors of their savage, demonic, no-mercy killing of the Germans was enough to have the Russians whispering tales of water-demon assassins in Stalingrad._

_And so, with no other names by which they could be called (they agreed to not reveal their _real_ names) they took on the names Rusalka and Vodnik._

_Jasper spoke to the soldier and sent some calming Vibes in his direction. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye._

_He shrugged as the man ran away after sighing in relief._

"_The commander has asked that we come. He wants his "best assassins" to get some credit."_

_Bella frowned._

"_They don't know our real names or our natures really… I mean, we only feed after the other guards have left. It wouldn't hurt, right?" Bella was babbling._

"_Worried about, what did you call them? The Volturi?" She nodded. The ruling regime had been introduced to her by some of the vampires she'd come into contact with in the past decade or so. And she, in turn, had explained their existence to Jasper._

"_Yes. But these humans will be dead in less than a century! It can't hurt that we've made ourselves known to them. "Best assassins" he said, not vampires." Jasper just watched as she tried to convince herself._

"_Should we leave?" She asked with a timid kind of voice. He shook his head._

"_No. We're doing a benefit for mankind here. Fuck the Volturi." He said it with conviction and started off towards the crumbling building where the commander was waiting for them. Bella, after a momentary pause of doubt, hurried after him._

_He was right. Fuck the Volturi._

_Of course, an hour later, they were leaving with all thoughts concerning bravado far from their minds._

"They wanted us there to congratulate us and publish a story about us in an inspirational Russian newspaper. We were going to be in a column next to the story on the sniper raids. We agreed to be questioned the next day and then hightailed it out of there." She shivers.

"War propaganda with vampires? The Volturi would have ripped us to shreds. Jasper wasn't too happy about it, but we both agreed to leave. The Russians managed to do well enough without us." She grins in his direction. He frowns grumpily.

"I wasn't ready to leave." He grumbles and glares at her. She ignores it.

"We went our separate ways after that." Her eyes shift to his briefly.

"He wanted more war time but I was still a little bit shaken up by our close brush with fame. Where did you go anyway?" She turns her body to his and waits with the rest of the coven.

"Well, I went back to the States. Turns out pa had been inspired by my leave for Russia but didn't have enough money to travel over there after half funding my trip. He went to train at Pearl Harbor instead." His eyes show pain.

"He was killed by the Japanese. Got blown up on one of the ships. Ma died of grief after receiving army reports of both mine and his death. I came back to an empty house." Alice grips him tightly as he gives a shuddering breath, his dark gold eyes swirling with grief.

"I went mad with rage, started killing anyone I came across. Broke into one of those Japanese internment camps and went on a killing spree. It was…horrible."

Silence meets his admission. Bella wonders if the others have ever heard about any of this.

"Afterwards, I felt so guilty but I didn't think I could really change. I was on my way to the city one night to find a meal when I got knocked into from behind by this one." He puts his arm around Alice's shoulder and hugs her to his side. He smiles down at her with an expression of absolute peace. It is the first time Bella has ever seen that kind of expression on his face.

"I always seem to be crashing into the ladies." Alice smiles up at him warmly, her eyes glazing over.

"She started yelling at me, hitting me with her tiny fists. Saying "what is the matter with you, you big oaf? You were supposed to be in that bar downtown _ages_ ago!" I asked her what she meant and she just rolled her eyes then pulled me down to kiss her." He grins lecherously and Alice, who, though unable to blush, looks down in an embarrassed manner.

"It was a little more than kissing," she mumbles nearly incoherently. Edward laughs boisterously, obviously amused by Alice's thoughts; it sets off what feels like fireworks in Bella's stomach. She does her best not to replay the sound over and over again in her mind.

And she fails. Miserably.

"Then she poked me in the chest and said "That's what I mean, buddy. Don't ever make me wait again." And I told I wouldn't. So I haven't." He winks at her fondly.

"He really hasn't," she says with a sly grin before cuddling up to his side in a grossly insinuative gesture. Emmett whistles, which earns him a glare from his wife.

Bella is confused by the story. Alice sees it and smiles warily.

"Um, have I mentioned that I can see the future?" Her eyes are nervous. Bella is incredulous.

She's kidding.

But nobody is laughing.

A mind reader, psychic, _and_ an empath? Is this some kind of supernatural breeding ground?

"No, not really." She says wryly, a little bit of acid creeping into her tone.

"What about you?" Esme asks Bella, trying to deflect the tense conversation.

"What about me?"

"What did you do after you and Jasper separated?" She clarifies, a coaxing smile on her face. Bella wants to huff in frustration and ream into Alice or Jasper for holding _yet another_ important piece of information back, but finds herself somehow compelled to answer the gentle woman's question.

_Might as well make the situation even more awkward…_

"I travelled. Hunted criminals because it made me feel less guilty." _Hunted Edward._ She thinks bitterly.

_Fantasized about killing him. Planned ways to trap and torture him. _

"You know, the usual." She shrugs nonchalantly. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Edward shrink into the wall. Does he know what she is thinking?

_But… he said he can't read my mind?_

_Oh, wait. I'm glaring at him. _

And indeed she is. He cringes away from her basilisk stare.

"Bella?" It is Carlisle this time, his gaze flitting worriedly between Bella and Edward. The rest of the coven watches on the sidelines.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" He wants to talk to her away from prying ears and minds. She agrees, if only to calm herself down. So much has changed over the past few days that she still has issues with her temper. Especially when it's provoked by a few choice memories about her attitude towards Edward for the past century or so.

But, then again, that's all changing a bit now.

Isn't it?

She walks stiffly past Edward on her way out the door, and against her volition, feels the frisson of energy between them. He catches her eye, and she is unable to read his expression. It gives her goosebumps. She isn't sure if they are the good or the bad kind.

Carlisle opens the large, wooden door and she walks almost regretfully through its arch. She throws a longing glance back at the house she is just a little bit attached to and then dashes into the trees, Carlisle keeping pace beside her.

She leads him towards one of the many clearings she has recently familiarized herself with and motions for him to sit.

"I know you have questions," she begins, "but before you start, can I tell you something?" He nods warily, probably expecting her to tell him something about how she seems to… _dislike_ Edward. Which she does.

Sort of.

But that's not it. That's for another time and place. This, right here, is much more important than her whirlwind of confusion regarding a certain bronze haired vampire.

"Edward told me something interesting a short while ago and I'm here to ask you if you can help me with it."

Her voice falters slightly before gaining strength.

"He told me I don't have to live this way anymore; I don't have to be a monster. I want to try your way of life." She waits nervously as the vampire before her observes her quietly.

His eyes roam over her face. She is hit suddenly with an image of those eyes staring back at her from the mirror. Gold eyes. _Her _gold eyes.

He smiles.

"I think we can make that happen."

* * *

I did a LOT of research for this one. I'm American, so of course we learned NEXT TO NOTHING about Stalingrad, seeing as we had basically no part in it. I was inspired by Enemy at the Gates (sniper newspaper reference anyone?) and I got my Russian from Google translator, so I've no idea how authentic it is.

_Стой!__Кто вы__?- Halt! Who are you?_

_Вы__! __Возьмите их в__окопах__!__- You! Take them to (in) the trenches!_

_Пожалуйста__, __мы__солдаты__. __Мы будем бороться__- Please, we are soldiers. We will fight._

Creative license?

**Anyway, I've got a new story in the works. Here's a summary:**

_There's a new girl in school today. Well guess what? I REALLY DON'T CARE. I have bigger things to worry about than doe-eyed, curvaceous, smart girls from Arizona, like the fact that I've been hopelessly in love with Rosalie Hale for nearly a decade and my dad's marrying her mom. I've got adoption papers to burn and a wedding to sabotage. Bella Swan is the LAST thing on my mind right now… I think._

**All EPOV, Crazy Edward, a little less clueless Bella... yeah, the works. Now I just need to research the adoption process! GOOO OCD tendencies! **

**Thing is, I don't have a clever title yet. If you have any ideas, just leave them in your review (INCENTIVE!).**

**So, my minions, yay or nay? **


	9. Square One

_Under the surface, trying to break through_

_Deciphering the codes in you_

_I need a compass draw me a map_

_I'm on the top, I can't get back _

_-__**Square One, **_**Coldplay**

**Rule six: Everything is your friend when change is your enemy.**

She sits across from Carlisle in the forest, slowly breathing in the sunny morning air. He smiles at her tentatively. Her hair is a riot of color in the speckled light. A beam catches the skin at the base of her neck and throws sparkling prisms across the trunk of the closest tree. She shakes her hair back and closes her eyes; the red irises that had so unnerved him in their vulnerability hide behind a pale film of skin.

"I suppose you would like me to tell you my story, so to call it, now that you have shared your own." He says good naturedly, feeling more comfortable when not being pierced by her eyes. She nods assent, crosses her legs, and keeps her eyes shut.

"Well," he continues, "I guess my tale begins with what I remember from my time as a human…"

_1703 in England; the days were long, the nights longer. Musty, grey years passed by. Sad, poor, common people lived inconsequential, boring lives._

_And to distract themselves from the gloom and unimportance of their own existence, the people turned to spectacles in fear. Witchcraft became the frenzy of the age; witch hunts, the adrenaline rush to a thrill-starving mob. _

_In those days, the devil was more tangible and accessible than God. That was the way people seemed to like it, too. Where was the fun in being good? No, they preferred the rush and Ultimate Excuse in fear of the Devil. No fear in God; they were doing his heroic work. For God would much prefer the execution of a few speculated witches than the whole "treating your neighbor as you would be treated" dogma._

_Yes, this was how God wanted it._

_Or, at least, that's how Carlisle's father believed it to be._

"_The government thinks we do not know how they view witchcraft!" He roared from atop a platform, screeching exciting ideals to a mundane crowd of farmers, itching for a bit of the wondrous and unknown._

"_They begin to doubt our ways! God's ways! They say there are no witches, there is no evidence- but they are blind! To say there is no evil is to say there is no good, and _by _God there is good. This we know. And _against _God there is evil, this we have seen! And _for_ God we must burn this weed in our harvest, this plague upon our land! Send the witches to their master, once and for all!"_

"_Hear, hear!" The crowd cried, mob mentality already setting in. The cold of the night pressing down upon them seemed to solidify their belief in the devil and all his evil. Night was when beings the Pastor spoke of thrived._

_Points of light shone through the dark; torches held aloft cast a flickering vision of excited faces. Carlisle sighed. If he were to speak in parables, like his father, he would draw the crowd's attention to their torches - see, these are stronger than the night! See how they shine in the dark! Who, here, is the clear victor? The light, of course! Always the light! It casts away the darkness just by existing- why, then, must we burn and torture and kill?_

_The torches, the light, the peaceful way of forgiving enemies, even witches. He would not encourage the crowd to use these means of light as a means to create more darkness, more hatred in the world. He would not actively pursue the death of innocents and he would not lead these people in the destruction of yet another family._

_No, he was not like his father. He did not place more belief in the evil of the world than the good. He did not condone or promote violence. That, above all, was most likely why his father loathed him. If the Pastor Cullen could get away with accusing his own son of witchcraft without fearing the shame of being related to such a being of profound evil, he would do so gladly._

_Carlisle shivered in revulsion at the smile of disgusting excitement upon the face of the man he was sad to say had fathered him._

"_Go! Go to their homes! Search for the black signs of their craft! Bring out the government's precious _evidence_!" _

_Reading between the lines- an excuse to ransack an enemy's home and take anything valuable in the name of fighting evil._

"_Go! Find these witches! Strip them down and find where their minions suckle!"_

_An excuse to publicly humiliate women, and maybe even privately rape them. It had happened before, girls violated in the name of proving their innocence. It would happen again. Carlisle grit his teeth; if anything bothered him, it was that. No woman should be touched against her will. Every female should be treated with respect._

"_Go! Seize them that are guilty! Bring them to the square and we shall present the government with our evidence! Then we may kill them!" The crazed crowd roared and set off to murder, rape, steal, and lie with not a shred of guilt on their minds._

_It made him sick to his stomach._

_He stood in the shadows, downtrodden, and watched with a sneer as his father went trotting at the head of the savages, nearly panting in anticipation. He shook his head and thanked God that he no longer had to tolerate the presence of that man. Animal, actually- man was too generous a title._

_He hurried off to the square and the town hall, hoping against hope that he could convince officials to stop the bloodbath before it began. There were so many innocent lives at stake-_

_But before he could get very far, the screams started. Although, these weren't ordinary screams. It wasn't women crying out in terror- as it usually was only women who were persecuted by his father's gang- but the horrified screams of men._

_Carlisle stopped dead and deliberated. Turn and find the new horrors? Maybe husbands crying out as they are tortured for being married to a witch? But his father usually hunted single women. It didn't make sense, these new sounds…_

_The screaming got closer, louder._

_With a rare curse, Carlisle spun on his heel and went sprinting in the direction of the noise. Doors cautiously slid open as he passed; eyes bleary with sleep and half recognized fright peeked out into the dark night which rang with the sounds of death._

_He rounded the corner at the end of the street where his father had been riling up the revelers only minutes before and found himself in front of a spectacle both horrific and ironic in nature._

_Men were running in every direction, bleating like donkeys, their sick past-time forgotten. As the crowd fell away, he saw to the center, where there had once been a sewage hole, and now stood three dark figures, bent over three men. The light of the discarded torches shone fragmentally upon the scene of twisted retribution. Monstrous men out to do monstrous deeds had come across something so much more demonic than they had ever expected. Maybe God had a sense of (twisted) humor, after all._

_Carlisle stood, mouth gaping, numb to the world as he watched one of the figures dip its head towards the neck of the man in its grip, and a wet, tearing, slurping noise echoed in the air. He saw blood run in streams as the figure ripped and tore, gurgling like a child in enjoyment. The man's screams fell to gasping shrieks and his skin turned gray. Upon closer inspection, Carlisle was sickened to see that the man was his very own father._

_Gagging, he turned from the three figures and their victims, and began to stumble away. He wanted to run, but shock and terror seemed to paralyze him. He'd gone no more than two steps when a slithering voice called out to him. He whipped around and came face to face with a leering, moon white face. Sharp teeth snapped hungrily and black eyes with a tinge of red hypnotized him._

"_And where do you think you are going?" The voice taunted playfully, the beast's beauty turned unbearable as a savagery twisted its features. Fast as lightning, it grabbed his hand in a grip strong enough to break the bone and smiled ruthlessly as Carlisle began to scream in pain._

_It pulled his arm to its mouth and tore in. Carlisle felt the unpleasant burn of a thousand suns spreading from the sucking motion at his forearm and fell to the ground, limp in pain. The vampire followed, still drinking from him. His other hand fell uselessly to his side as the burning progressed to his neck. His fingers brushed against something unbearably hot, but not as bad as the pain radiating out of where the vampire was feeding._

Fire.

_Desperately, he felt clumsily for the handle, his fingers passing through flame again. The smell of burning skin assaulted his nose as he finally wrapped it in his hand and thrust it towards the demon drinking from him with a strength he almost did not possess. The creature hissed as the flame drew near. It pulled away and Carlisle grinned weakly, making another pass at the demon's clothing. The thing's shirt caught fire and it snarled, annoyed. It ripped the shirt off and came closer to Carlisle, swerving around the torch he was waving at it._

"_Annoying human," it spat. It went to grasp his arm again, and he knew that he would die, but just then the creature's nostrils flared and it looked at a point over Carlisle's head. He turned to see what the creature was so avidly staring at._

_A girl had come out of her home to see the commotion. A single girl. Most likely the one the crowd had originally come to condemn as a witch. Her hair was bright, bloody red. Witch's hair; definitely the girl his father had come for. She stood frozen, in awe of the beauty of the vampire staring at her so greedily. Its eyes closed and it inhaled. Carlisle was too weak to warn her away, although he tried._

_A weak breath of air escaped him. The paralyzing feeling had crawled to his lips and tongue. It could do no more than loll uselessly around in his mouth._

"_So sweet, so delicious. What a beautiful scent you have, my dear." The monster crooned and then pounced, bringing the girl down with a sharp cry and a slurp of victory. Carlisle moved the half of his body that was still in working order away from the scene and crawled towards a pile of potatoes disrupted by the panicked departure of the crowd only minutes before. He crawled into it, letting the spuds fall all around him. He lay, unable to move, in agony at the fire licking through his veins. For an eternity, he lay there. And after an eternity of what felt like hell, the burn was reduced to only one area. His throat._

_Blood, he needed blood. But the image of his father, of the poor girl came to mind and he knew he would rather starve himself and die than give into such a monstrous temptation. He was not a monster._

_He was NOT a monster. _

Her eyes snap open.

"So what happened next? Did you wake up in daylight and go on a murdering rampage in the town square?" Bella's inquiry is a bit wry. Carlisle smiles sadly and shakes his head.

"No, the square and all the houses around it had been abandoned after word spread of the vampires living there. There were no humans. The people of the town had packed up and fled to the neighboring village, about four miles away. You have to understand, the mythological was so much more believable back then. Witches, warlocks, vampires, and ghouls seemed to be around every corner. It was a nightmare for the Volturi, let me tell you…" He chuckles humorlessly.

"I confined myself to that town. I refused to leave, refused to even venture far from the square. And I was so, so hungry. God, I wanted more than anything to just swim in blood. I remember begging the skies to rain red so I wouldn't have to take a life, just have it freely given from a merciful God. Blood was my manna, my mantra. And then, one night, as the madness seized me and I began to give in, inching away from the town until I was standing at the edge of the surrounding forest, a deer came across me. I attacked mindlessly, not aware of anything but the blood. And it tasted so good, so wonderful, so perfectly inhuman, that I practically skipped for joy."

Bella's forehead crinkles disbelievingly.

"Really? That foul-smelling, rough blood was _delicious?_"

"You have to understand; even raw intestines would taste delicious to a starving man. Which I was. And though not as tantalizing as human blood, animal blood managed to sustain me enough until I felt I was ready to leave my forced containment in the ghost town. I tested myself, tried myself, and stayed true to myself. I was able to control myself and my devilish instincts." Carlisle smiles jovially, spreading his arms wide like a bird taking flight.

"I am free of the so called necessary evil of our kind. I am as human as a vampire can be."

Bella is silent and in shock, trying to think of the amount of self control this almost-human in front of her possesses. He's lying. It is impossible.

And yet, it isn't. Even she, a jaded and self-prescribed pessimistic leech, can see the honest truth in his gentle eyes. It gives her hope, bolsters her belief in the decision she wants to make. Carlisle smiles as he sees her face brighten.

Then, almost against her will, the muted darkness of her thoughts waves to the forefront of her mind.

_It doesn't matter. You're too weak. You could never accomplish what he has._

_He's never killed a human. And you're the executioner of thousands._

Carlisle's smile fades as the darkness clouds her eyes. He can see her struggle and aches to help her, but he knows this is a battle she must fight on her own. She can only enjoy walking up a mountain if she paves the path herself.

And then, out of nowhere, a spark of brilliance jumps into his mind.

"Bella," he exclaims, trying to beat back the defeat hanging around her like an oppressive cloud, "what bothers you so much about being a vampire?" She blanches and looks at him like he's an idiot.

The dryness of her tone says it all.

"Well, I think it would be obvious… you know, the whole bloody, killing, soulless part of it…" Carlisle's smile widens. Her confusion knows no bounds.

"Ah, see, I'm happy you mentioned that…soulless… issue of yours. You believe you have no soul? I believe you are wrong." He sees her balk and just barely contains a chuckle of endearment. It is disarming how well he can already predict her reactions. She is so like Edward.

"And I believe you are delusional." She bites back, all elements of revere and respect flying away from her voice and dying in a sad, pitiful kind of way.

Carlisle just smiles.

Bella fumes.

"Well, I guess you can say that. No doubt, I've heard it plenty of times before. Cauis, ah, do you know Cauis? The Volturi brother? Of course you do. Well, see, I was good friends with the leader, Aro, and his brother, Cauis, despised me. My diet disgusted him; he believed I was sparing those who didn't deserve it and depriving myself of that which I deserved at the same time. He also didn't take too kindly to my apprentices, as he believed that they didn't learn _true_ control, and that they would eventually go insane from lack of nourishment. He, of course, defied my arguments of how _I_ seemed to be fine after so long by refuting that I was already, in fact, insane. My grinning at him after the accusation seemed to reinforce his convictions." An amused smile pulls at his face.

"Anyways," he continues, his voice growing softer, more coaxing, "as I am apparently insane, I feel as if I must bestow some of my more neurotic ideas upon you, if only to show you the happiness that I have received through my eccentric revelations. There is something that I discovered long ago, when I was still only a few decades old, about humans and souls. And when I say humans, I include vampires in that category. Because, although we are alien in some respects, we are very similar to each other in many other ways. No other predator is as closely related to its prey as a vampire to a human. A vampire could even love a human and vice versa. No, don't scoff. It can happen, although the idea is a bit ludicrous. Even for me…"

"As I was saying, through my extensive observation of the human race, I discovered something unique about people. Any person in the world can become anybody."

A furrow appears between Bella's brows.

"What I mean is that any child can be famous, or smart, or perfect, or a criminal, or a martyr, or a fraud. Anyone can be anyone, depending on their circumstances. No one is born evil and no one is born a saint. Essentially, no person is born with a soul. Because our soul is our identity, and no one is born with an identity. We are all born like blank sheets of paper, waiting to be written on. What I believe, is that it is up to us to _build_ our souls."

His eyes gleam with a sort of zealotry. The gold glows and begs Bella to understand.

The furrow deepens.

"The soul is not made up of what we feel or what we remember. It is not made up of what we experience or what we are born with. It is made up of our _intentions_, our good intentions. It is made in those moments before our decisions; those moments where we think not of ourselves but of the ones we care about. It is not made of love, but our capacity for love. Not of our sympathy, but our contemplation of sympathy. The human soul is built over the course of your life, and it becomes whole as your life goes on. When Edward changed you, it was like your soul was lost, because your identity was revolutionized. In your first kill you lost your soul, but that does not mean that you can not regain it!" He steps closer. She steps back.

"I lost my soul too, because although I didn't act on my desires, I still desired. I wished and almost gave in. My intention to give in destroyed the thing I had built up all my life. But then, through my refusal to give in again, I began to build from scratch. And now, here I am, easily able to resist the call of blood because I have something to remind me that I am in control of my own life, my own decisions, my own soul. And I believe you have some sort of a soul as well."

With this, his voice grows nearly inaudible, a whisper on the wind. Bella unconsciously leans closer to listen, unwillingly enraptured by this ludicrous idea.

"I believe you have fragments of a soul, fragments born from guilt and grief, and the desire to change. However, I do not believe this is healthy. Our souls are our identities, and it is never good if the basis of you, of Bella, is that of a guilty, depressed, vengeful cynic. I believe that in order for you to regain your soul, you must start from scratch; square one, shall we say."

"You must go back, Bella. You must go back and remember and relive. You have to forgive yourself and others. You have to move on. Only then can you heal and resist the temptations stronger than the weakness of your soul."

_You must forgive him, Bella._

_That_ whisper, however, is almost so soft as to be imagined.

~Bella~

She wanders the forest, trying to drown herself in the noises of all the meandering, careless life around her. This is the world, as it is, as it seems. There are no underlying truths, no moral crossroads, no barefooted ideals that seem harmless but are actually out to destroy her sanity. It's just the birds, the trees, and the clouds on the horizon.

"On the road to nowhere, I see." She whips around, already expecting the flash of bronze and the gleam of tawny gold.

"Edward." He leans against a tree, smiling pensively at her.

"What do you want?" She tries for the old biting tone of her voice, but she can only conjure weariness. Edward cocks his head to the side before pushing off the tree and walking towards her.

"You okay?" He asks, genuine concern melting into his face. She watches the stone features soften with something akin to affection.

_No. And I hate that you're making me feel better by just being here._

She shrugs, turns, and walks. He follows, just like she expected him to. They amble in relative silence that is somewhat comfortable and somewhat anticipatory.

The birds called out to their nest-mates.

"I used to love ice cream."

She falters slightly in her step, her head turning only marginally to the side as she looks at him out of the corner of her eye. He is smiling, looking up at the trees and she is wondering why he is constantly blurting out the most random, trivial things. Why he is always so flustered and fumbling in his speech. Why he isn't perfect, after all.

And why on earth does she find it endearing?

"Excuse me?" Edward turns his head to look at her. They continue walking, not breaking eye contact.

"Let's play a game. Twenty questions. We'll count that as my first answer. Go."

"Uhm, okay? I mean-"

"What's your favorite pastime?"

"Reading, wait, no- I mean yeah. Reading."

He grins.

'Is that your final answer?" Against her will, she smiles back

It goes on like that until the sun is in its zenith and the shadows are short and sharp in the forest. Edward likes playing piano, listening to Bon Iver, and running through the Olympic Peninsula. Bella likes deep-sea swimming, traveling, and cliff diving. There is some laughter, some seriousness, and some sort of incredulousness that throws her off the ridge of reason. What is she doing? On one part of her brain she is talking to him, loving being out there with him, admiring his beautiful voice and body. On the other side of her brain she is dissecting everything that has happened in the day and numbly asking herself what changed.

"How did Jasper come to you?" She asks, half paying attention.

"Well, after he ran into Alice…" she doesn't hear the rest, instead jerking in surprise as something has just occurred to her. She interrupts him mid-sentence.

"When Alice was pretending to be Victoria, she told me that her mate changed her. Her mate is Jasper right? So they must have met before-" she stops, suddenly realizing that Edward is no longer next to her. She turns and watches as alarm flashes across his face. His eyes dart around the forest, looking for dangers. Then, in a flash, he is before her, holding her arms and leaning in.

Dazedly, she realizes that he is speaking. But he's so _close_…

"You can't tell anyone. Bella? BELLA. You can't tell, okay? You have to keep that a secret." The words reach her as if underwater. She closes her eyes, trying to gain her bearing. He smells so sweet, electricity singes her nerve endings. So close, so deliciously close.

"Why?" Breathlessly, she tears away. Putting distance between them so she can feel sane again.

"Can you keep a secret?" She nods tersely. He sighs and motions that they sit. Once seated on the ground, he begins to speak in an almost inaudible tone.

"You know that internment camp Jasper was talking about? Well, Alice was a nurse there in the camp's hospital. A man was brought in one day who refused to be treated despite the large cut on his leg. When Alice attempted to help him, he hit her across the head with such force that she went ricocheting off the adjacent wall and suffered a severe head injury. She was delirious and impaired for a while after that, and she was confined to the hospital ward where she became a patient. Her "episodes" of claiming to see certain things the others couldn't caused them to inject her with drugs, which made it all the worse. She was trapped in hell. Then Jasper came and killed her captors but only managed to bite her before moving on to his next victim." He sighs.

"It was enough. He changed her, and in doing so, restored her mental capacity with one quirk: her ability to tell the future."

"We don't know if her ability was caused first by the damage to her brain, or a latent talent she didn't know about, or if it was Jasper's venom itself. He's telepathic; maybe he can pass on supernatural abilities? We can't be sure; Alice is the only one we know of that he has changed. Either way, we don't want to find out. And we don't want anyone to know about it."

"Why? Why not? What's so wrong with knowing the truth?" Edward's mouth purses and he looks away for a second, squinting up into the fragmented sunlight. After a few seconds he turns back to her and leans in, his expression pleading and grim.

"We don't want anyone to know about it in case the Volturi find out and start jumping to conclusions. Telepath transforms human into a fortune-telling vampire? Even if that weren't true, they'd become interested in that brain injury she'd acquired. Can talents be made? They'd want to experiment; would end up torturing humans in their search for supernatural abilities. They collect talent like that with a somewhat unhealthy obsession. We don't want them interested in us in any way. Which is why only Jasper, Alice, Carlisle, and I know the truth. And now you do too; but can you see why this must be kept secret? Can you understand?" He pleads with her, concern for his family running through his voice. Without even hesitating she agrees. It is hard to say no to someone as beautifully sincere as he.

He grins and she can't help but think that the world is suddenly that much more beautiful. And that screaming banshee at the back of her brain gets shoved even further into the corner.

"I understand. I won't tell anyone."

They look at each other, gazes caught together like crumpled tape.

A rustle to their right snaps them out of it and they leap to their feet, ready and alert.

Bella watches with relief as the blonde goddess, Rosalie, emerges from the foliage, and she wonders how she didn't smell Rosalie when she was close by.

It's Edward's fault, of course; why does he have to be so beautiful? So distracting? So good when she knows otherwise?

Or does she?

She can't tell anymore.

Rosalie's golden eyes swirl alarmingly as she regards the two vampires together, shoulders brushing in their closeness. She thinks how their bodies are leaning towards each other, how Edward's eyes are shining with some kind of joy she had only rarely witnessed before.

Edward grins, his face alighting with happiness as he inches even closer to his missing puzzle piece.

"The Denali's are here." Rosalie whispers. Her voice seems fearful. Edward's regards her with alarm. Bella's eyes dart between the two of them in confusion.

_Denali's?_

"Sasha isn't here. It's just the sisters." Rosalie fidgets uncomfortably, her voice lowers even further.

"Edward, they need your help. Something has gone horribly wrong with their mother."

Edward tenses and unconsciously grabs Bella's hand. She instantly grips it, fighting the urge to throw him away; the other urge to pull him closer. The swirling vortex of hatred in her mind contracts as she shoves it in a cage. She cannot forget the names, the cold lips against her throat, but she can try.

"_I believe that in order for you to regain your soul, you must start from scratch; square one, shall we say."_

_Alright, Carlisle. I'll do my best._

_I guess square one starts here._


	10. Papercut

**Recap:**

Bella has been looking for her creator over the past century in order to kill him for making her a monster. In Seattle, she finally comes across him, but her vengeance doesn't go exactly as planned. Unnerved by her inability to hurt Edward, and drawn to him at the same time, she finds herself tangled up and confused. Not helping things is the reappearance of her good friend Jasper, who she fought alongside during the Battle of Stalingrad in WWII. Edward, Jasper, and the rest of the Cullen coven are vegetarian vampires; a diet Bella had once believed a fairy tale. Carlisle offers to help Bella with her guilty conscience by offering her advice and counsel: He tells her that she needs to recreate her soul, and that the possession of a healthy soul will protect her from the temptation of human blood. He tells her that the first step to achieving this end is forgiving her creator. Bella manages to have a civil conversation with Edward after her talk with Carlisle and she feels out of depth, reconciling her past opinions of him with the reality. Rosalie interrupts them with the news that the Denali sisters have come to the Cullens for help:

**"The Denalis are here." Rosalie whispers. Her voice seems fearful. Edward regards her with alarm. Bella's eyes dart between the two of them in confusion.**

**Denalis?**

**"Sasha isn't here. It's just the sisters." Rosalie fidgets uncomfortably, her voice lowers even further.**

**"Edward, they need your help. Something has gone horribly wrong with their mother."**

**Edward tenses and unconsciously grabs Bella's hand. She instantly grips it, fighting the urge to throw him away; the other urge to pull him closer. The swirling vortex of hatred in her mind contracts as she shoves it in a cage. She cannot forget the names of her victims, the cold lips against her throat, but she can try.**

_**"I believe that in order for you to regain your soul, you must start from scratch; square one, shall we say."**_

_**Alright, Carlisle. I'll do my best.**_

_**I guess square one starts here.**_

* * *

_It's like I'm paranoid, lookin' over my back_

_It's like a whirlwind inside of my head_

_It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within_

_It's the like the face inside is right beneath my skin_

**_-Papercut, _Linkin Park**

The warmth of the day fades as the finch raises its gold-tipped wings. The sun slides and, in a heartbeat, the forest slows. Red and liquid gold light streams, illuminating the pollen stretched like a gauzy blanket across the leaf strewn earth. With the absence of those ever-present clouds, the forest is able to observe itself from one medium to the next, able to enjoy the sudden color in their usually grayscale/green world.

The birds still in their nests; the deer pause, limpid eyes lifted to the treetops; a black bear leans its paw against a tree and looks curiously up at the sky.

There is movement within the stillness, however; a movement that is in no way natural.

Three figures, white as moonstone and glittering like diamonds, race through the forest, ignoring the beautiful sunset and splashing the bare tree trunks with its reflected color. A shiver of unease travels through the nearby animals; the strange scent carried on the wind makes them nervous. Grunting, the bear turns away and lumbers back to its cave. The birds take to wind, safe in the air. The deer alone stay still, hoping to be mistaken for another few trees.

Only the gold finch bothers to follow the streaks sending ripples through the forest with its beady eyes. Seeing the strange sun-creatures vanish, it soars into the sky to give its jittery fellows the message: there is nothing to fear and the danger has passed as quickly as it came.

The last streak of light grabs greedily at the forest floor, its fingers searching for the beings who dare to shine as brightly as the sun. It finds no thieves, however, only their imprint on the minds of all the relieved creatures resuming their activities.

The sun dejectedly falls away from the world, darkness taking its place.

And somewhere past the forest, a scream rents the night.

~Edward~

Rosalie leaves them to go find Jasper after leading them back to the house. He is gone on a hunting trip, and in her haste to fix the situation, she leaves Edward and Bella to deal with the Denali's. Edward had scoffed at her before letting her leave, his expectations for the meeting not being very high.

He, however, did not expect this.

Edward and the Denali sisters had never gotten along. Irina was petty; Kate, vapid; Tanya, spiteful. All three had the most degrading, compromising, _disgusting _thoughts of him and he never had a problem calling them out on their depraved imaginings, so to speak.

They disliked the "pretty-boy" newborn refusing them- three vain, selfish, unbelievably beautiful ancients.

He, in turn, detested being called a "pretty-boy" or being viewed as an insipid toy. And he was, admittedly, old-fashioned. After growing up in a time where flashing your ankles was still considered scandalous, the mindless fantasies of the Denali sisters seemed like some grotesque barbarianisms to the refined Edward.

Heads tended to clash when the four of them were in the same room. The three could never control themselves, and thoughts of shredding his neck would transform into them licking his neck and other such perversions. He would grimace, glare, huff, and walk away from them, letting everyone else in the room, consequently, know what was going through the embarrassed, horny sisters' minds.

They called him a prude. He had a few more colorful terms for them.

And yet, here they were, the three most annoying ticks in the universe, standing before him and pleading with him, lustful thoughts nowhere in sight.

He did _not _expect _this._

Standing before them now, he grimaces almost shamefully. The thoughts running through their minds, the sheer panic and concern for their mother, for Sasha, nearly brings him to his knees. He had always seen them as undeserving of the affection the gentle Sasha gave them. He had never seen the depth of their love for her, the capacity they themselves had for love, because he was too distracted by their…special… thought processes.

But _now_ he can quite clearly see it.

They love her unconditionally, like a mother loves a child, like he loves Bella…

He shakes his head. _Not yet. _

_Too soon for that_.

And yet, his heart disagrees. The tenor of the poor women's thoughts reflects his own in the past few days, the past century even. He loves Bella. He can't deny it. That love between mates, so present in his day to day life through his family, that love that he had longed for and envied... He feels it for Bella, his mate. His beautiful, broken mate…

But he can't admit it out loud to himself either. Or her. _Especially_ her.

He chances a side-glance at his Bella, for she is undoubtedly _his_, and has to stop himself from reaching over and pulling her into his side. There is a vulnerable, open look on her face, the marble softened somewhat by pity, and he sees sadness in her downturned lips. Her eyes glaze, gazing at something only she can see and relive. Memories that nobody should have to endure. His fingers twitch once more with the longing to comfort her before he turns back to the Denalis.

"So you don't know why Alice screamed when you asked her to look into Sasha's future? Or where she went?" He was too far out in the forest to see Alice's vision in his mind when it happened. By the time they had come back she was gone, her cry still vibrating in the air along with a sense of dread.

Alice had seen something horrible. So horrible she ran away from her vision and so horrible that she refused to tell anyone exactly what she had seen.

"And you want _me_ to convince her to tell you?" A hardened edge creeps into his voice. No matter their piteous countenance now, liquid gold eyes imploring him over clasped hands, he still can't seem to fully rid himself of his resentment. It is a stigma, hanging over his mind like a cloak.

And they are asking him to _force_ information out of his sister. Information she would rather not have known. Their request goes against many of his instincts.

Tanya, the most persistent of the three, grasps her sisters' hands tighter, her mouth twisting and searching for the words to explain. Instead, she grimaces and shakes her head. Then she lifts her eyes to look right into Edward's.

_I know you don't like me. Like us. I'll admit our behavior was atrocious._

_But can't you do this for Sasha? Please? You know how we love her, how she loves us. You know she is good; a vampire to rival Carlisle._

_You respect her. If not us, you tolerate her. Do it for her. Please, we're begging you._

He stares. Torn.

"All we asked was for Alice to just _look_ into her future in case our worries were for nothing. Sasha's been acting strange, secretive, running around with a foreign scent clinging to her clothes. And there have been disappearances lately; you can't hide them in a place with such small populations… in a city maybe, but not Alaska…" Irina's forehead wrinkles imperceptibly as she stares at the ground almost like the answer is written there.

"But her eyes were always golden. Clearer and happier and _warmer_ every day." Kate's voice cracks as she stares off into the distance.

_And then she disappeared- _Tanya frowns to herself.

_We left to find you and Alice. We wanted answers. And when you were gone we asked her. And she looked away from us, her expression smooth and empty-_

Kate keeps her eyes at some point over his shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze, but her mental voice is strong. She provides him with a picture:

Alice's face is serene, devoid of thought or feeling. Blank as the stone she is made from before a dark shadow passes over it. She frowns, her eyes still looking past the present. Edward blanches.

She looks… terrified.

And then her mouth opens wide, pink tongue gaping, as she lets loose a tortured shout. She sounds like she is burning. Burning in hell.

_And the scream, good God, the scream. I felt like the world was ending; I didn't even notice she was gone until it stopped… _Irina gives a shiver and moves closer to her sisters. All three look up to him suddenly and in unison:

_Please. Help us._

"Edward."

He turns, curious, to the woman at his side. Bella's eyes burn into his, red orbs brilliant in the light of the moon. Her lips are pursed as she looks at him with all the intensity of a woman scolding her wayward husband.

_Uh oh._

"Whatever your issue is with them, let it go _now_. Help them and stop acting like an asinine child or you can forget about me giving you a second chance." He can feel his eyes widening almost comically. And although Irina, Kate, and Tanya have nothing to be amused about considering their situation, they can't help but feel a flicker of vindicated mirth at the sight of the uppity Edward gaping like a fish out of water in the face of someone much shorter, smaller, and curvier than he. Someone he is obviously enchanted by.

"You want to prove you're not a monster? Start here. Because only a monster could say no to their request." Her voice, though soft, flays him alive. He can't help but hang his head in shame. It is true; he is being petty and unfair. These are his cousins, his family's dear friends. And he is compromising their loved one's safety all because he can't get over a few uncomfortable encounters.

"You're right." He meets her penetrating stare and she gives him a sharp nod before turning back to the women.

"Okay, I'll find Alice. I can't promise you she'll tell me what she Saw, but I can promise that I'll do my best to find out." The sisters smile wearily and thank him, shifting even closer to each other as they look as one across to the dark forest. Alice is in there. Somewhere.

And something's haunting her.

A crash comes from just beyond the nearest trees, startling them. All five fall into a crouch, ready to attack, before recognizing the scents. It's Jasper, Rosalie right behind him. And he does not look happy.

"What's wrong? Why are you all on edge? And what's this I hear about Alice?"

Edward and Bella turn to each other, smile without humor, and rush the confused vampire together, brushing past Rosalie who is running over to the Denali's. They each take an arm before pulling him back into the forest from where he'd just come charging.

"We'll fill you in on the way."

A frustrated swear bounces off the nearby trees before silence descends once again.

~Jasper~

He feels the animal blood pulsing under his skin. Feeding always makes him feel alive; it used to be the greatest and most fulfilling part of his half-life.

Until he met Alice.

Her energy, the look she got in her eyes when she knew something he didn't, the feel of her fingertips on his body, tracing every outline until he couldn't take it anymore… until he was laughing at all the humans who would never, _ever _feel something as good as this, as her.

His reason for being was somewhere in these woods, somewhere near, and scared. Oh, he'd heard the scream. He'd thought nothing of it at the time; too busy wrestling a rare moose gallivanting about. He'd been ecstatic to see the big guy- moose were always fun to play with and much tastier than the puny deer.

But all that was secondary now- the blood beneath his skin, the bellow of the beast he'd slain and drained, to the fact that his mate was not by his side. And not one hundred percent happy.

He had to find her, comfort her, and get her the hell out of her head. It was always the most dangerous place for her, with all of those nasty visions. All that responsibility resting on her slim, slender shoulders…

The forest shifts in front of him, blurring and sifting into pieces of clarity as he focuses on them, searching, searching for the spiky dark hair and the sweet, cloying scent. And there it is suddenly, on the back of his tongue; faint but unmistakable.

"She went that way." He leads them North, hoping beyond hope that Alice hasn't yet made it into Canada, where the vague scenery will make it even harder for him to find her.

But, luckily enough, she hasn't. He can smell her clearly now, only a mile away. She is, or was, running, but slowly, unsteadily, almost as if she were injured…

Jasper lets out a wounded whine as he comes upon his mate, curled up on the forest floor, keening and shivering. He runs to her, Bella and Edward's shouts of dismay muffled as he takes the tiny figure into his arms gently.

He whimpers and nuzzles her neck as she relaxes slightly, her open eyes fixed on something far away from this moment of comfort and worry.

Jasper can feel someone approaching and pulls Alice tighter to his chest, growling lowly at the intruder. His senses are heightened yet dulled at the same time. He can smell Edward clearly, but he does not recognize it as Edward. All he knows is that a male is coming closer and closer to his mate and he must defend her against this possible threat. Right before he leaps to his feet, he senses the presence retreating. His head lifts infinitesimally just in time to catch the shocked look on Edward's face before focusing back on his mate.

He hears a gasp as if through water and his mate freezes in his arms, the shivering giving way to a statue-like stillness. Her eyes come back into focus before she leaps from his arms, head swinging from side to side.

Jasper is at her side just in time to catch her as she lets out a roar of fury and attempts to bolt away. He locks his arms around her and she fights for freedom, straining towards the figures that had retreated. Shaking off the daze of instinctual reaction that had descended upon him when he first sighted her, he realizes something.

They are alone, he and Alice, in the forest.

And then, clarity-

"Where did Edward and Bella go?"

Alice slumps, eyes slipping back into their dreamy state before she whispers to her confused husband.

"Away. And I don't know if they are ever coming back."

~Bella~

"Let…GO… of me!"

Bella had been standing innocently by a rotting tree, watching curiously while Edward approached the prone Jasper and Alice, when, all of a sudden, the world went topsy-turvy and she was left to stare at Edward's (admittedly glorious) behind as he rushed back into the forest.

With her over his shoulder.

Like a fucking caveman.

"What the hell? EDWARD?"

No answer.

She reaches down and pinches his toned butt. He grunts in surprise, but doesn't drop her. And he doesn't stop running.

"Hey, you fucking savage- Put. Me. DOWN!"

Still no answer.

Pushing away the indignity, she throws a temper worthy of a toddler.

Fists beat his back, legs kick spastically, hair flies, her body bucks, and two bodies fall to the ground as Edward trips in distraction…

"Umf…" He groans and rolls over, bringing her with him and springing up with her in his arms, this time. Bride-over-the-threshold style.

She crosses her forearms over her chest, pouts, and glares up at him.

He grins tiredly and continues running.

"I can use my own two feet, you know. To go wherever we're going," she grumbles. He shakes his head and she watches, unimpressed, as he speeds across the surface of what she thinks is the Puget Sound. They must be somewhere near Seattle, by now, but she isn't very familiar with the area. For all she knows, they could be headed towards Canada.

A cloud of putrid, human, city-stink assaults her delicate nostrils.

_Yep, that's Seattle alright._

_Still better than Chicago, at any rate… _

"Well, if you won't let me run," she growls through clenched teeth as the water fans around his feet, "can you at least tell me _why_ we're running?" He sighs but doesn't slow down, looking ahead with a twisted expression on his face, the soft thump of his feet on land replacing the _whish-whish _sound of the water.

She's just about to throw another fit when he starts talking.

"When Alice entered my Hearing range, she sensed us and tried to shut off her thoughts. Rather successfully, too, as she's had a lot of practice keeping things to herself by singing Selena Gomez songs this past year," he grins wryly before his expression sobers. Bella snorts and relaxes slightly in his embrace as the remnant city-stink is replaced with the aroma of musty forests and tributaries followed closely by the mouth-watering fragrance of Edward in all his tangerine/vanilla glory.

_Wow, he smells good. Holy Crow, does he feel good. _

_NO. Bad Bella. Bad- very, very bad…_

"But when Jasper tried to comfort her," he continues, breaking her train of thought, "I slipped past her walls and glimpsed the vision that she was so afraid I would see. About Sasha." Bella perks up a bit as he grimaces.

"That bad?" She asks warily.

"Worse, actually."

"Mind sharing?" He's quiet for a good twenty seconds, just enough time to make her a bit anxious and squirmy.

He grips her tightly and speeds up as Mt. Rainer comes into sight then stops just long enough to let her down before continuing on.

She trots after him, dubious, but unable to turn and run the other way.

_Second chance, second chance, second chance, second- yeah, I'm totally following him just to find out about this mysterious vision. Curiosity killed the cat and all…_

_But I'm no cat. And I'm pretty sure that butt will kill me before my curiosity, at any rate. Or maybe my curiosity about that butt… and how it would feel…_

_NO. Stop thinking… thoughts! CEASE. DESIST. Look away- good baby Jesus, I'd like to- _

_RESIST!_

"Let's talk to Emmett first," he calls over his shoulder and quirks his brow at her dazed expression.

She scowls.

He snickers

"You. Suck."

_Quite literally. Being a vampire and all._

Emmett

A mountain goat hops from ledge to ledge, frantically bleating in terror as a large figure flows seamlessly up the mountain face after it.

"I'm gonna get your goat!" It shouts, almost gleefully, before it goes tumbling back off the ridge. The figure grunts and slams into a broad ledge three meters down, its former grace forgotten as it lays, spread eagle, hair caked with dirt and spitting out tiny rocks.

The vampire stands up, grumbling, and brushes himself off.

"I did _not_ trip."

The goat halts, turns back, and cocks its head to the side, bushy face seeming to scrunch and then lengthen, as if it is raising its brows in amusement.

_You tripped._

Can goats even be amused?

"_Bleat!"_

"You better not be laughing at me. I'm a ferocious, goat-ending monster!"

The goat huffs and turns, ambling slowly, almost mockingly, away.

"Yeah, you better run!" He shouts after it. A taunting bleat echoes back.

"Stupid goat. I don't even like goats. Too sissy for me. Hmph."

Emmett brushes himself down once more, still muttering and talking to himself about how he didn't trip.

He fell on purpose. Because tumbling down mountainsides is fun when you're a vampire.

And how the goat hadn't just smugly turned its hairy snout up at him. It had run in fear, terrified in the face of the spectacular intimidation and musculature that is Emmett.

Obviously.

A ribbon of wind reaches up and caresses the boyish curls at the nape of his neck, bringing familiar scents with it, and the goat is forgotten.

Emmett's nostrils widen as he breathes the scent of the mountain deeply in. No humans; all gone due to a bad thunderstorm forecast for the night. Good thing, too, or he would have been hunting measly deer.

But Alice had told him that the mountain would be clear and he would have a chance at a fun meal for the next week.

He breathes in again, and smiles at the scent of a large, female, adult cougar and a male black bear, scrounging for berries.

_Cougar or bear, cougar or bear. The female is in heat, better quality blood- but black bears are always more fun…_

_Yeah, I think I'll go for the black bear. Cougars are for Edward. He likes cougars. Ha, ha, ha, he likes cougars! Wait, but can't _he_ be considered a cougar? Being a century old and whatnot? Yeah not one of your better jokes, Emmett… REALLY need to brush up on the juvenile humor…_

He shakes his head at himself and crouches in preparation for the hunt, pushing the goats and Edward far from his mind. But just as he's about to leap, another gust of wind hits him in the face and the scent it carries with him makes him straighten up, confused…

And then delighted…

_Hey, Eddie boy. Sup? You wanna catch a cougar? I left one for you…_

Emmett has a sudden light-bulb moment as his brother's flyaway hair comes into view.

"I left the cat for you because I know how much you love chasing pussies. Plus, I don't need to chase them anymore, seeing as I have my own pussy at home."

He smiles slyly as Edward blanches and looks slantwise at Bella.

She grins at Emmett then raises an eyebrow at Edward, who scowls.

"I'll be sure to tell your master that you called her your pussy," he snipes, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Emmett shrugs.

"I'm assuming he means Rosalie when he says Master, correct?" Bella questions. Emmett grins and nods. She tilts her head in confusion.

"And you're not bothered that she's your… master, so to speak?" Edward rolls his eyes and huffs, already knowing the behemoth's answer.

"Sure, everybody knows Rose wears the pants in our relationship, but," his eyes twinkle just a bit, "I have more fun in my underwear anyway, so I don't mind."

Bella starts giggling uncontrollably and Emmett chuckles, glad to see her looking carefree for once.

He stops, however, at the look on Edward's face.

His brooding brother is staring at Bella like she is the sun and he is a blind man seeing for the first time. He looks so… awed, happy, content… in love. Emmett's not ashamed to admit that his breath catches in his throat for a second (just a second, though, he's not a swooning teenage girl) at the sight of his uptight, constantly scowling brother looking… _happy_.

And all because of this pretty, broken girl.

Bella's giggles wander off to play with the wind, but Edward's soft expression doesn't fade. Emmett clears his throat, knowing that if Bella catches sight of his brother's adoring gaze she might just go off the deep end.

_Such a fucked up relationship…_

Edward glares, catching the tail end of Em's thought. Emmett smiles, shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and then eyes the two shrewdly.

"I know you guys love being in my company and all, you especially, Edward, but why are you _really_ here? Something wrong back home?" Edward's mouth purses.

"Yeah," Bella answers, "these three Denali vampires came-" she stops, however, at Emmett's gleeful snicker.

"The sisters?" He asks her and laughs even harder when she nods, looking confused.

Edward harrumphs and looks away.

"What's so funny?" She asks, eyes swiveling between Emmett's boyish cackles and Edward's peevish frown.

"What's so funny?" Emmett chokes out, "You didn't tell her about the Denali's, Eddie?"

Bella's brow creases.

"What's so funny," Emmett continues, "is that those three succubae have been panting after dear Edward for the past seventy years or so, am I right?" Bella scowls suddenly, obviously bothered, as she rounds on Edward.

"Succubae?" She hisses; Edward flinches.

"Yeah," Emmett chortles, "like the original succubae. Those girls have been getting around _good_ for the past two thousand years or so…" His laugh tapers off as Edward bares his teeth and growls shortly.

"And this wasn't deemed pertinent information, I take it?" Bella quips, annoyed and agitated. Edward shrugs, looking parts pleased and annoyed.

"I didn't really have time for a backstory. And why does it even matter to you anyway?" He stares intently at Bella as she twitches slightly, coughing and turning away from him.

"It doesn't." She mutters.

Awkward silence.

"Well, what's the big deal about the sisters, did they try to corner you in a bedroom again?" Edward shoots him another glare before taking a deep breath.

"No," he growls, "they were worried about Sasha, so they came to Alice to find an answer. But what Alice found terrified her and she ran away. Bella, Jasper, and I tracked her down and I was able to get a read on her. And it wasn't good. Bella and I need to go north, to Alaska, to reason with Sasha."

Emmett frowns.

"I suppose you're not going to tell me why that is, exactly?" His frown deepens at Edward's weary shake of the head.

"Well what do you need me for?"

"You," Edward continues, "need to go back and convince Rosalie to force the sisters to stay with Carlisle. Because Alice won't tell them what she saw, and I don't think she can lie convincingly enough to force them into staying. But Rose understands them, she's close to them. If anybody understands them, it's her. And _you _understand Rose."

Emmett doesn't blink, staring steadily at Edward, whose own eyes are swirling with a hint of desperation. He looks down as he carries on.

"When I was in Alice's head, I _heard _something, not her thoughts, but the thoughts of her premonition."

He glances up at Bella and smiles softly at her puzzled expression.

"It's complicated," he explains, "Alice's visions are almost their own entity. When I'm in her mind, I usually see images and her opinions of those images, but sometimes I see this orange mist _whispering_ to her, images of words and sounds mixing together in their messages: the one I heard was telling Alice that 'if the red eyes and her sire go, then there may be redemption; but if any of the other golden eyes follow, all shall perish.'" He lets that sit for a second, and Emmett can feel a tug of panic in his chest.

"Red eyes- Bella, I'm guessing- and her sire. That's you, isn't it Edward?" Edward nods and Bella stares stoically out across the mountain. There is a stillness in her eyes, like that of a predator before leaping, that worries Emmett.

"And I'm guessing you don't want the Denali's following because you're including them in the golden eyes category, correct?" Another nod. Then silence.

"Okay," Emmett breathes, "okay. I'll go back. And I'll convince Rose, and you'll go to Alaska, and… everything will be good, right?" His eyes sting for some reason and he feels lost for a second. Edward grins sadly at his brother, but it is forced.

He doesn't know if everything will be good. He doesn't know anything, really.

But he won't say that.

"Of course, Em," He looks away, unable to lie to Emmett's face.

"Everything will be alright."

~Bella~

They are flying along the ground, feet kicking up dirt and greens as they race back towards where they had come. The land becomes water and arcs around her feet as she tries to keep up with Edward; running beside him makes her realize just how unusually fast he is, even for a vampire.

_Probably why he carried me… didn't want me slowing him down._

Not that she _wants _to get on his back. She can admit to herself that, physically, her chest resting against his taut back muscles was delicious. The tingles that shot through her body, warming the dead, cold skin… she'd never felt anything like it before.

But the inner turmoil wasn't worth it. The way her body and her mind warred, with her heart caught somewhere between the two, a sacrificial lamb to be lifted up and presented to whichever side won- no amount of tingling was worth _that._

But she doesn't want to think about it, so she runs and she lets go.

The repetition of running slows time down, and after what feels like a small eternity passing, she detects a kind of shifting in her brain. What if's and maybe's float around and collide, and as her feet and breath sync with Edward's, she sinks into a kind of semi-aware trance.

_Dull blue eyes across the table seemed to look right around her, as if she wasn't even there._

_She pinched herself to remember that she was._

_She could feel her lips pursing, twisting, exasperated exclamations tumbled into her mouth, but she said nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father's puffed out chest, proud, and her mother's shining eyes._

"_Isabella, such a lovely name," he murmured. She fought with herself not to grumble._

"_Thank you, Michael."_

_Dead, flat air recycles itself between the two stiff, uninterested parties. Her parent's didn't notice._

_She did not want this, and neither did Michael Newton. But he came calling anyway. And she just had to accept. She said yes and relinquished her dreams of serenades and sonnets beneath her window at midnight, the passionate spark in her lover's eye when he first beheld her, the feeling of warmth that would grace her cheek every time he'd smile at her like she was his whole world._

_Michael was no dream, but he was sensible. And so she said yes._

_Her parents had stood nearby, beaming at her, and she wanted to scream at them. The ground beneath her feet became quicksand and she sank, quickly, but they just smiled serenely as she suffocated. _

_A brick etched with blonde hair and spiritless blue eyes, her soon-to-be husband and warden who would seal her confinement with a cold rock placed upon her wilting finger, dragged her under and into the blackness. _

_There was no war, no struggle. Because, then, she had been weak._

With a start, she comes hurtling back to the present. Belatedly, she realizes that Edward's tentative hand upon her arm had lifted her from the reverie.

It has been a long time since she has given Michael a thought- the blonde haired, blue eyed babies who would grow up to twirl Newton in curlicues on school papers, the big backyard and the quaint home, the security of a husband who would expect her to cook and clean and pop out children in return for a paycheck- those thoughts had been so very far from her mind until recently.

And, despite her hatred for her soulless- _not soulless, just cruel_- existence, she can't help but be grateful that she had escaped that destiny.

Grateful for Edward's selfishness. The thought makes her want to fall to the ground and stay there, a statue frozen in time.

When did everything change?

Breathing in the warm ocean air, she turns to her companion, her source of all confusion, her lust and her vehemence.

"What did Sasha do?"

He stands, stark against the light of the moon.

"Sasha always wanted to be a mother," he replies heavily, "I always thought that she wanted it too much. I guess I was right." Her turns, eyes hard, and Bella feels a dawning horror unfold in her subconscious.

The dark bloom unfurls its petals to the night as small red eyes and once-innocent feature fall into a hazy focus.

"What do you know about the Immortal Children?"


End file.
